


En Garde

by babyvfan



Series: Makings of a RomCom [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Age Reversal, Also can be an ass, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Rivals, Consensual Underage Sex, Consent is key, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fem Keith, Fem Shiro, Fencing, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Genderbending, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by the Parent Trap, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith is 20 & Shiro is 17, Lance is a supportive friend, Loosely inspired by the Parent Trap, Misunderstandings, Only by the setting and the shenagians, Rivalry, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Thirsty Dorks, awkward dorks, brief mention of racism, femsheith, has a bit of angst, not by much, omg they were roommates, only 3 years, shiro is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyvfan/pseuds/babyvfan
Summary: Either fate truly loved playing with her ass or Keith was somehow transported to a bad 90s romcom. That could be the only explanation she could think of as to how-more importantly WHY-the last person she ever wanted to see again was here. At summer camp she was working.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Makings of a RomCom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994536
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23
Collections: Femsheith Exchange 2020





	1. Preparation in Stance

**Author's Note:**

> For @Engraved10 over at Twitter for the femsheith exchange. 
> 
> Engraved, two things stuck out from your wishlist to me: age swap AU, rival fencers AU. I always love age swap with sheith, so I thought it would be fun to have. But with rival fencers, my mind immediately went to the Parent Trap's fencing scene, which is always my favorite. Next thing I now the oneshot grew into a multi-chapter story. I seriously hope you enjoy it. I also you forgive me for taking so damn long to finally get to it😅
> 
> Massive massive thank you to sharki for being one of the best beta readers ever. And lending me massive support with this story. Means so much.
> 
> Shout out to you also Melissa, the great SasuNarfan13 for being my cheerleader and my second pair of eyes

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

Whoever said that summertime was a fun time, the best time, the best season was in her honest, good opinion….either completely delusional or goddamn psychotic. Possibly even both.

Either way, they all deserved to bake away along with Keith underneath the boiling hot sun.

Keith tried to wipe sweat away from her brow and massaged the nape of her neck that felt like an overcooked sausage. A soaked-up, wet overcooked sausage. Groaning, she wiped the sweat off her hand on her shorts and pushed her blade shades up to her nose, glaring up at the burning golden orb overhead.

Summer seriously was way too romanticized. The vacation part was fine with her, more than fine. After barely surviving her sophomore year at college, she was more than ready to dive deep and stay buried underneath the sheets until it was time to move back to the dorms. She was up for going to the beach and the pool.

But being out in the sun, withering away underneath the burning rays, being expected to actually do things in the suffocating heat that felt like she was wading through sticky, thick waves? Not fun, not one damn bit. Sweat breaking out across her skin until she felt like she was sticky with it from head to toe, heat biting into her with every stiff, sluggish move she made.

Hell. Absolutely hell. The worst form of punishment.

Which was exactly why she was convinced her uncle, Kolivan, was determined to make sure that her summer was horrible.

“Jesus, Keith, scowl any harder and people will think this is a bone-breaking, soul-numbing boot camp.”

And he sent along the perfect sadist in training to ensure she’d have a miserable time.

“I can see it now. A billboard as wide as the eye can see, taller than most of these trees. No taller!” Lance said, following into step with her easier, continuing to ruin his mouth. He had no clue that each word was a minute longer to the beating she’d treat him to later.

“Stop talking,” she muttered, wiping another sleeve of wipe off her brow. She glanced over at him, baffled that he was cool as a cucumber, practically gliding through the heat while she was melting from it.

Seriously, was there something in the Mcclain genes that made them immune to the heat? Or maybe it was a Lance thing? Lord knows he wasn’t normal.

“I WANT YOU!” Lance boomed. Keith nearly stumbled, coming close to cracking her neck, to avoid the sharp finger Lance thrust into her eye. “TO JOIN IN THE MISER OF CRUSHED SOULS AND STERN DISCIPLINE!”

Seriously, whatever magical ability made him immune to the heat also made him immune to the ability to read the room. Keith looked down at the uneven, rocky path they were currently climbing and wondering how much it would hurt if she kicked him down it.

“Please remind me why we’re friends again?”

“First off, I was the one who extended the friendship branch over to you, so if anyone should be asking that question, it would be me. I was the one who decided to be a generous eight year soul and befriend a lonely, ungrateful, viper ass.”

Keith stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Lance to stumble. She could feel the ache drumming alongside her ankles, burning in her thighs from all the walking they’d already endured on the hill, but she focused on pouring venom into her glare. “Was this before or after my lonely, ungrateful, viper ass punched you for saying girls can’t fight?”

“Hey!” Lance protested. “It wasn’t a punch. It was a….a firm….touch…”

“Right,” Keith drawled slowly. “A firm touch strong enough to break your nose and make you cry.”

Lance sputtered for a second two, head jerking here and there, several different shades of outrage crossing his face before he finally got out, “You only managed to get me since you got me off guard.”

Keith snorted, rolling Her her eyes. Sure, she did. Warning a snot-nosed eight year old she was going to punch him, giving him time to recover from his laughter and brace himself, and then punching him in the nose was catching him off guard..

“And I’m still traumatized by that, thank you very much. Saw my whole life flash in front of me.”

“So a whole three seconds of blackness?”

“Ha.” Lance barked drily, knocking his shoulder into hers as he continued on with his walk. “Ha.” He knocked into her shoulder again. “And har.”

“You’re right. I’m being too generous.” Keith flashed him an innocent smile. “Two point five seconds.”

The next shoulder bump nearly knocked her down.

“You know, you might want to be nice to the poor sap helping your ungrateful ass move your stuff into your cabin- all the way up the hill may I add.”

Already several arguments were forming in her head Keith could use to combat the statement.

Starting with the million dollar question on why in the name of hell she would personally request to live in a tiny, overheated cabin on the steepest hill in the whole camp, making her burn and sweat with every step even more than she already was? Why the hell, if she didn’t need the money, if she could somehow decline the invitation to come back, would she be in camp?

But there was a fine line between being an ungraceful and an outright brat, and as annoyed as Keith was by the heat and her location and all, she wouldn’t complain for free help when she could get it.

Besides Camp Walden, an old-fashioned merriment of wooden cabins with various activities, did come with certain benefits. Like the weekly pay that would award her troubles, the food she knew would be tasty, and the classes she was assigned to help with.

That didn’t mean she was going to act like she enjoyed being burnt to a crisp. “How the hell do you deal with this?”

Lance shrugged. “When you’ve been helping your mom in the kitchen for the past eight year since I was twelve, you learn to adapt.”

Keith raised her brow at him.

“Alright, it doesn’t also hurt that I’m one of the few eligible bachelors-”

“More like frogs,” Keith muttered.

“In a sea full of fair maidens.” Lance glanced over at her and pulled her to the side. “If you swung that way, you’d so be into me.”

She had never been prouder of her exclusively women-loving side till this moment. “Lance, even if by some bizarre reason, the very soul of humanity relied on us sleeping together for one night only, I’d rather let it burn to a crisp and start off.” She shrugged. “Worked well the first time around according to the bible.”

“You are so going to hell.”

Keith offered another easy shrug. Not the first time she heard it and definitely won’t be the last.

All too soon after what felt like hours, they finally reached her cabin that was on the tippy-top. In true camping form, it was built of dark logs, featuring a sloping off-green roof that looked like it would fall off any second, and a wired gray door with a black screen that led to a wider brown door.

“Here we are.” Lance plopped her bags down. “Cabin North Star.”

Rising a brow, Keith looked at him.

Lance shrugged in response. “Some of the directors thought that giving new names to the cabins would make this year interesting Raise some excitement.”

Right, because she could already feel her excitement skyrocketing as they spoke.

Lance patted her on the shoulder and wiped his hands on his khaki shorts. “Alright, buddy. This is where I leave you. Need to help Mom finish up the rest of the food for the big party tonight. Remember, the counselors need to get there two hours early to help set up, so participation is mandatory. Try to make it on time.”

She would make no such promise.

“Also you may wanna do another little touch up. And shower.” Lance pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned away, fanning himself with his other hand.

“Get the fuck out!” She shoved him away. She was ready to throw a punch at him, but the damn idiot was already halfway down the hill. If she had any energy, she could have chased him down and delivered that punch. Luckily for him, she was too hot and needed a nap.

She could always beat his ass later.

The inside of the cabin wasn’t closet sized like the ones she had to deal with during her years as a camper. It looked to be twice the size, which was a massive improvement. Bigger, too, with chestnut wooden panels that were gleaming, the scent of Pine-Sol still heavy in the air, and fresh white-painted walls. Two twin beds were set by the wide windows. There was a pair of chestnut, three-shelved dressers with round brass knots, with the left one turned sideways and placed by the foot of the bed and the right pressed by the door. Two small closets were built into the walls, placed near the dresser to the door.

She glanced over at the right bed that already was piled up with stuff. A black tote bag and a shiny lavender suitcase with a matching laundry bag and basket set by the leg of the bed. From where Keith stood, she spotted a Finnpoe sticker on the suitcase that made her smile. A closer glance revealed a purple post-it underneath the sticker.

**_Hey roomie,_ **

**_I just went on a gamble and took the bed on the right. However feel free to change things if you need that side._ **

**_-S_ **

While Keith was more of taking what you can get kinda gal instead of a feng shui nut, she still appreciated the sentiment.

Keith settled for the left bed and got to work unpacking. Thankfully the place wasn’t boiling hot like she imagined, thanks to the opened windows and the cool breeze rolling in, but there was still plenty to do.

Such as sanitizing and wiping down every inch of her side, starting with her mattress that she made sure was clean before pulling out her red bedspread. She did the same to her closet, wiping it from top to bottom before tucking out her clothes. Not that there was much other than tank tops, t-shirts, jeans, and some shorts. Next she put away some of the towels and underwear into the dresser, and tucked her shoes underneath her bed.

She looked up at her reflection in the mirror and flinched, stepping back. Her face was so flushed, she could have been mistaken for a lobster. Her black hair was a wild bird’s nest. Her red tank top was drenched, particularly around the chest area, clinging to her barely-there mosquito bites for boobs.

_Dear God._

She peeled off her sticky, sweat-drenched clothes on the way to the bathroom. To her shock and relief, the bathroom, done in nearly all white, had enough space between the toilet and the shower without making her feel claustrophobic. She indulged in a nice, long cold shower, taking great pleasure in the high water pressure.

As it turned out, being a camp counselor did carry some perks.

Once cleaned, she slipped into an oversized blue t-shirt and crawled into bed, falling into a deep sleep the second her head hit the pillow. It felt like her eyes were closed for only a few minutes, but then next thing she knew, her phone was going off like crazy, blasting Edge of Seventeen by her ear.

Half-asleep, she blindly reached for her phone, eventually finding it on the windowsill. Eyes still closed, she rolled onto her back, pressed the call button, and said, “You got me.”

“Well I hope you’re happy.” Lance answered. “Now I owe Mom fifty bucks.”

She was seriously going to kick his ass next time she saw him. “Not my fault you’re a gambler.”

The outraged squeaking she heard over the phone would have been comical if sleep didn’t still clung to her mind, making everything else unimportant and foggy. She nearly ended the call right then until Lance got out, “Excuse me for having faith that my best friend would come through and not be late-which is dumb of me to think in the first place since you’re the queen of tardiness.”

More words, more nonsense which were taking so long to process in her brain. “Late?” She blinked her eyes rapidly to shake off sleep, sitting up in her bed. “Late for what?”

“Late for what, she says? Late for what, she says?” Lance cried out. “Check your messages, Keith.”

She moved her phone away from her ear to look at the screen, pulling down the curtain of notifications that consisted of thirty messages from her phone and double that number from Facebook messenger, in her solo chat, the camp counselor chat, and the entire camp Walden group chat. All featuring questions that were a series of: WHERE ARE YOU? DID YOU FORGET ABOUT TONIGHT, EARLY ATTENDANCE IS REQUIRED-REMEMBERED, IVERSON IS GONNA HAVE YOUR ASS.

Keith frowned down at the messages, scrolling anxious message after message, mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening. Then a memory came back to her, a snippet of the email Iverson sent out a week before to all campers and staffers on the Welcoming Back Feast. It was bolded and underlined that all staffers were to report to the beach two hours early to help with the setup, which according to her watch was over four hours ago.

“ _SHIT!_ ” She ended the phone call and was up in an instant.

Keith cursed herself for not setting an alarm before she crashed, knowing good and goddamn well that Iverson would take any offense- intentional (which was rare) or accidental (which was often)- and use them to roast her ass. At least her past-self had enough brain cells left to unpack her bags before she crashed. She pulled on a red tank top and bleached denim shorts with frayed edges, slipping on some flip-flops, tying her shoulder-length hair into a loose bun.

By the time she reached the beach, making her way down the horrible hill, nearly going over to the other side of the camp, there wasn’t much to do. A huge fire was already going off in the center of the beach, contained by wooden pieces that were almost as tall as her. Shimmering streamers hang from branch to branch, wrapped around tree trunks, in bright neon colors of pink, yellow, orange, blue, green, and red. Between two close trees hung a neon-green sign that read in bright orange: “WELCOME CAMPERS.” Besides the sign, on both sides, was the food that was laid out in several large picnic tables. From where Keith stood, she could already smell the buffalo chicken, the baked mac and cheese, and roasted potatoes.

Further down, close by the life-guard station was Lance at the DJ booth, looking like a dwarf in between the two massive speakers and the wide turn-table in front of him. Which was pretty questionable since she suspected Lance was just playing music from his laptop that was connected to the speakers via Bluetooth, but she suspected that Coran pulled a few strings to let him have it.

Or maybe it was Rosa, Lance’s mother, a great beauty with her high cheekbones and tight dark brown curls, who was manning the food station by the right. She shot Keith a smile. “

“How bad?” Keith asked when she came over to her.

“Bad,” Rosa answered back. ‘Which is why I suggest you eat up.” She slid over a plate of roasted chicken, baked mac and cheese, and corn. “And hide if you can.”

Keith ate up every bite of her food and did try to hide, but like the bloodhound he was with a nose that could always snuff out people on his shit-list, Iverson found her with his nasty sneer already set tight on his mouth. He verbally chewed her ass out for nearly an hour, finally dismissed her with clean-up duty afterward and a warning that her ass would be roasting over the fire next time.

Campers and staffers littered the beach. A few were holding a plate of food or a soda can, bumping along to the music. Most were divided among their friend groups that ranged from three to ten, with a large group of twelve dancing around the fire. Even though Camp Malden recently converted from all-girls to co-ed two years ago, girls still outnumbered the boys ten to one. Ages of the campers varied from twelve to seventeen, new-comers immediately identified by their bright smiles, the old-timers by their nonchalant manner. Some, noticeably a few fellow counselors, moved sluggishly around the party, making it clear Keith wasn’t the only one who just stumbled out of bed.

Snagging another plate of food, adding an extra piece of chicken and a bacon cheeseburger, Keith made herself at home on the stage of the lone picnic table that wasn’t occupied by other campers. She carried out her “supervision” by surveying the place, calling back campers who were wading a bit too close to the water, calling out idiots who were trying to toss rocks into the fire like they were five. When she wasn’t supervising, she was scrolling through her Tumblr dashboard and liking stuff on Instagram.

Through the sea of faces, she saw familiar ones and the changes they brought about. Like a fellow counselor, a year younger than Keith, who had dyed her once chestnut-brown hair into a shocking shade of blue. A camper who was a string-bean last year had decked out with muscles and was stretched to a giant. And another….

Keith breathed in too quickly, causing her Coke to nearly go down the wrong wipe-pipe. Once she managed to choke out a breath, she sat up straighter and leaned in.

She didn’t recognize her. Standing in the middle of her own group that was close by the fire, the stranger stood out with her tall six feet and some change height. Her thick, broad-shouldered frame was prominently displayed by her little white cropped tank top, showing off an impressive set of abs, and thick thighs squeezed into tight, tight jeans that made sure every curve was hugged. Her hair was a fierce style of black hair on top, with a white lower-cut. Keith didn’t know if it was trick of the firelight or the openness of her face, but she could have sworn she saw lightning sparked in her eyes, glowing with warmth.

Dear God, she must be still tired. Keith switched her phone for her soda, taking in a quick sip. Much as she tried to focus on the other campers, her eyes drifted back to the girl.

Pretty didn’t seem accurate enough to describe her. Gorgeous didn’t do it either. Captivating was almost right but not enough. Amazon seemed right. A living, breathing Amazonian who looked like she would fit in perfectly well in the island of Themyscira with Wonder Woman and the others, tall height and lean muscle. She looked like- _oh crap_. Oh crap. She was looking right at Keith.

 _Shit!_ Shit. Shit. Shit. All the heat Keith suffered through this morning rushed back to her head, boiling her skin bright red.

Okay, okay, she was spotted. That was fine. It was fine, because she was just a normal girl people-watching and not a stalker. Keith tried to convey that confidence into her face, hoping whatever shape her mouth was making was an actual smile and not a grimace. It seemed to have worked since the girl’s smile brightened and she raised her hand in a wave.

Okay, that was good. She could do that. Keith tried adding as much charm as she could into her smile while replying back to the wave with a small one. She noticed the way Ms. Amazon’s smile grew, growing impossibly brighter, making a shiver of warmth lick the pit of Keith’s stomach.

And….and now Ms. Amazon was coming over. Right now. To her.

Panic flared inside Keith as her mind scrambled to find a solution. Should she play it cool and act like she didn’t see her? Nah, that was stupid. Should she try to drink something so she’d have something to do with her hands? A quick can to her Coke revealed there was only a few drops left. Should she get up and meet her halfway? Nope, that would be dumb-and worst if it turned out Ms. Amazon was actually walking over to someone else and Keith would look like a creep. Or maybe-

“Hi.”

Oh crap. Keith swallowed and looked up, her stomach dropping right under her as if she were slowly reaching the peak of a rollercoaster, seconds away from the big drop.

Her chest squeezed, unable to handle so much beauty at once. There were too many things that caught her eye. The girl’s stunning looks were even more gorgeous up close, featuring a sharp jawline and soft gray eyes. A beam of silver shone from the diamond ring pinned on her nose, with a row of silver stubs running down her left ear. Her body was even more impressive from top to bottom with those thick thighs that made Keith’s mouth water. And then there was the warm aura that seemed to radiate from her, like golden sun rays.

“Is that a hairjob you did yourself or did you lose a bet?” By the time Keith could grasp what her mouth was doing, the words were already out in the open. And she wanted to smack herself silly.

Luckily for her, Ms. Amazon didn’t take offense. She laughed and the sound was sweet as syrup. Running a hand through her hair, she admitted, “I actually wished that was the case. More of a simple story of bad genes kicking in early. Which sucks,” She confessed with a one-shoulder shrug. “But what can you do? Still, it's better than the usual route people for.”

“What usual route?” Keith asked. Did she mean the piercings?

She lifted her right arm, a silver and white titanium arm with golden beams radiating from the center of her palm.

“Oh.” Well, that certainly wasn’t something you’d see everyday. Thanks to Kolivan, a retired veteran, and the number of trips he took her along to see his old army buddies, Keith wasn’t new to prosthetic limbs. Though she had to say, Ms. Amazon’s one was clearly top-model.

Before she could get another word out, Ms. Amazon hopped in, “No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s lighter than it looks, so no need to worry about me topping over. No, I don’t have it on 24/7. I take it off when I sleep and shower, even though it is water-resistant. No, I wasn’t part of a medical experiment- or an Edward Scissorhands duplicate. My friend’s dad has very good connections.”

Irritation bubbled in Keith’s chest. Not at the girl, but at the fact she must have been asked so many times that she needed to clear assumptions beforehand. Another reason to hate people she supposed. “I was actually pretty distracted by the fact that maybe you could give Wonder Woman or Serena Williams a run for their money with that body of yours.”

 _OH. MY. DEAR. FUCK._ Keith’s hands flew to her mouth, blocking off before the loose-lipped dame before it spilled anything else. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was happening to her? She was already shitty at conversations beyond the usual, “Hi. How are you, that’s good,” but tonight it was like Ms. Amazon found her awkward switch and notched it up to a mortifying Mother Earth-please-swallow-me- whole level.

Ms. Amazon looked almost as horrified as Keith felt, and Keith half-expected her to smile awkwardly and walk away. Not that she’d blame her. She would do the same thing too.

But soon her shocked expression melted into a bemused smile. A light shade of pink colored her cheeks as if she averted her eyes, running her hand around her neck, shifting her feet. All while being so completely oblivious to the squeezing/melting effect she was doing to Keith’s heart.

Seriously, it wasn’t just enough that she was already hot as hell, but she was also an insanely adorable awkward puppy.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Ms. Amazon finally said. “Serena is a Goddess.”

True, very true. Keith agreed as much with a smile. The woman was a legend for a reason.

“As for Diana, she’s the queen.”

Also true. Keith was sure the hero was one of the top figures that made her question and confirm her sexuality. “Well, no reason why you can’t join forces and become the final piece to the trio?”

The adorable awkward pup slowly disappeared as a mirth sparked in those gray eyes, their electric gaze like fingers tracing along the pit of Keith’s stomach. A sly smile curled her lips, flashing a hint of dimples. “On the battlefield or in the bedroom?”

Oh. Oh, oh, oh fuck. Her insides were liquefying as heat stirred in her core, growing to an intense, hungry flame, causing Keith’s thighs to tense before they squeeze together.

The girl’s smile was absolutely wicked, as if she knew the affects her words had on Keith and thrived off it. Usually Keith didn’t go for cockiness, which usually led to a massive ego, a major turn-off for her. With this girl, though, it was a turn-on.

“Although, if I must be so bold,” The girl took a step forward. “I wouldn’t mind the trio turning into a foursome.”

_Oh._

“Or a private show for two.”

 _Oh. Oh. Oh._ Oh, this girl was good. She was dangerously good.

Keith had met plenty of girls who knew had to talk a good game, both queer and straight alike. Issue was she usually came across girls who talked a good game but rarely followed through. Because of said boyfriend. Because they wanted a thrill-to know what it was like. Because they wanted to experiment, sometimes just them or with said-boyfriend. All of which Keith had turned down with a flat no. However, there was no denying the sheer heat blazing through those gray eyes, electric with dark promises Ms. Amazon intended to come through with.

Seeing that look, Keith gave the girl her own flirty smile she saved for special occasions, the one she was told by few but very pleased partners was definitely a panty-dropper. The way those gray eyes dilated, Keith saw her smile was doing its job well, particularly as she slowly crossed her legs, putting to good use her short shorts that showed off her legs. She felt the way Ms. Amazon’s breath hitched as Keith’s index finger landed on the center of her chest. Her very, very firm and warm chest.

“Can I get the name of this ambitious partner?” Keith asked, adding a bit of a huskiness to her voice that always guaranteed a good time for both parties. “Or should I just refer to you as Ms. Amazon?”

Bright pink spread from her cheeks down to her neck, which did wonderful things to Keith’s ego. And as well as deepen her need to see Ms. Amazon out of her clothes and find out how many other ways she could make her blush.

“It’s Shiro.”

 _Shiro?_ An itch trickled the back of Keith’s skull, a vague sense of familiarity rippling like a soft wave she couldn’t quite connect or see clearly. Keith gave herself a mental headshake and focused on the present, where she was trying to charm a gorgeous girl.

“What about you?” Ms. Amazon- _Shiro_ \- asked, moving forward. Keith felt her mind growing hazy from the vanilla and lavender scent she smelt coming from the girl’s body.

“It’s-”

“There you are, Keke.”

Of course. Of course, just when she was starting to see the bright side of returning to camp, the moment she met an incredibly hot girl and considered having her first hookup with her, that was when fate decided _okay, you had your fun and now it’s time for an interruption_. And, to add further salt to the wound, it wasn’t just any interruption, it was her least favorite person in the whole camp and school and the world in general that she hated even more than Iverson. James Griffith, a spoiled-ass she’d known and loathed since middle school, using a nickname he knew-and experienced a handful of times-that guaranteed a fat lip if said too many times.

Keith deserved brownie points for not immediately ripping into him on sight, even though she was definitely tempted. Shiro’s seductive mask was dropped to concern as she glanced between them, her brow furrowing, setting off an unfamiliar beat in Keith’s chest that both surprised but warmed Keith. So yes, she didn’t kill Griffin, but she made sure razor-sharp annoyance was heard loud and clear as she hissed, “What?”

“Iverson needs you to unload more chairs.”

Goddamn, a refusal sat on the tip of her tongue. Iverson, though, already chewed her out. Keith didn’t think she could handle another in the same night. Groaning, she turned back to Shiro and blinked hard as that itch returned to her, a distorted picture flashing through her mind. “Would you mind…?”

“Sure,” In a blink, Shiro’s smile returned. “I’ll be here.”

“Cool,” Keith smiled back, relieved. “I’ll be quick.”

That was the intention. That was that plan. Keith would get as much as she could carry and get back to Ms. Amazon ASAP. Of course, once again, luck wasn’t on her side. Unloading the chairs that was stored in the old barn turned into helping Iverson break up a fight between three new campers, then transporting them to the nursing station since all of them got a hit on the others with nasty black eyes and scratches, and then scrambling for a fire extinguisher since one idiotic camper decided to live up to tradition and start their own bon fire outside their cabin with the fire quickly spreading up to the roof. By the time she finally made it back to the beach, it was already way past late and there were only a handful of people left. None of them were her girl.

No, Keith sank her head. Not her girl. But she could have been. She was the first person in camp, in a long time honestly, that caught her eye. Now, she was gone and Keith didn’t even know where to find her.

Shiro. Keith thought of the name again and repeated it again, rolling the name as that itching sensation came back, chipping at her skull like a woodpecker. Why did that name sound so familiar to her?

“Kogane, move the chairs back into the storage!” Iverson called out. “Party’s over.”

Keith smacked her hand against her forehead, head dropping down in misery.

Oh the joys of being a camp counselor.

~…..~

Despite the setbacks, it was easy for Keith to follow into the routine of Camp Malden as the first week rolled on.

At the crack of dawn- in reality, about eight in the morning- the rip of a horn blared through the speakers posted at every station of the place, jerking campers and staffers alike awake, giving them a healthy dose of a ghost heart-attack. Keith spent a good minutes cussing out Iverson and every person who helped create him, then glanced over at the empty bed, wondering when her roommate left and if she even came at all. At nine, after she stumbled out of bed and showered, she met up with Lance and a few of their friends for breakfast at the Dining Hall, comforted by the fact that Rosa always set aside a plate that featured an extra heaping of everything, including bacon and French toast. Then at ten, after stuffing her stuff and packing up whatever left-overs she had into her pockets and bag, Lance would head into the kitchen to help with the lunch round before reporting to the lifeguard post, Keith to the gym, where she assisted Coran with fencing lessons.

Sometimes the hours flew by; other times they dragged slower than snails. Some classes, she was mostly seated by the bleachers, watching Coran along with the class as he explained the brief history of fencing and the demonstrated beginner positions. Other classes, Keith was called to demonstrate the moves.

Her last afternoon class on Friday brought in a group who looked to be a good mix of thirteen to sixteen year olds, more girls than guys. There was one girl whose short height and young face gave her the impression of a twelve year old, with huge round glasses. It was either due to age or arrogance that made them barely register Coran’s words or demonstration, busy chatting with friends or looking blankly ahead or sneaking their phones.

“Alright, how about we put those skills to good use?” Coran said, tone still cheery despite the lukewarm attention his attention was getting. “Keith, if you please.”

Her cue. Keith rose from the stands, slipped on her mask, and walked onto the foam blue mat she helped Coran roll out early morning.

“Alright, campers,” Coran clapped his hands until every eye was on him. “Who would like to take a fencing tango with our lovely TA?”

Intrigue and excitement lit their eyes, defiance thinned or curled their mouths as some of the campers lined up. Underneath her mask, Keith was smiling.

 _This ought to be good_.

One by one campers met Keith in the center of the mat, sword raised, an extra pep in their step. One by one, they were sent back with their tails in between their legs less than a minute later, either stumbling out or taking themselves out with klutzy mistakes.

“Gentle, Keith,” Coran said, behind her. “We’re trying to teach them, not harm them.”

“Of course.” Keith answered back cheerily, mentally crossing her fingers behind her back.

Technically she knew that she was supposed to go easy on them to spark encouragement, excitement, and all that jazz. This was an exercise warm-up to get a sense of their skills and figure out where to go from there. But she couldn’t help throwing caution to the wind and going head-on. Despite how long it had been since she competed, the thrill that fencing brought her never failed to flare the second she picked up the sword. Whenever she held a sword, whenever she slipped on the mask, it was like everything was muted to white noise except the opponent standing across from her and the need to take down.

One masked opponent stepped into the mat with an easy swagger that reeked of toxic arrogance, like he already won the gold. It took a quick thrust of her sword to tag him out.

“And still our undefeated champion remains to be Ms. Keith Kogane.” Coran appeared besides her, grabbing her hand and rising it up. Grinning, he turned over to the rest of the campers. “Go on, people. Let her have your applause.”

Scattered, lukewarm applause met the reply, while most replied back with grimaces and disgruntled groans. Keith accepted it all with a low bow, adding a bit of a dramatic flourish that would make Lance proud. Maybe she was being extra, but she didn’t give a shit.

“Bitch,” someone sneered. 

In less than a second, Keith was up and the tip of her sword was pressed against the asshole in front of the crowd, his boldness breaking into pale-faced fear as she dug her tip deeper in.

“Maybe if you put those brain cells into actually paying attention and not mouthing off, you’ll last longer than three seconds, ass clown.”

“Ho, ho, hold it!” Coran clapped his hands to grab their attention, a severe frown crossing his usually-smiling face. “While I do not tolerate profanity in my gym,” He stared pointedly at Keith before his eyes moved over to the ass clown. “I tolerate disrespect even less.”

“But she-”

“While I don’t completely agree with Ms. Kogane and her methods, she’s right in regard to listening. All of you,” Coran turned that withering look over to the rest of them who wilted under the heat. “Are dull blades that we shall spend the next six weeks sharpening to perfection. And lucky for us, my set of dull silver, Ms. Kogane and I are the perfect tools to help.”

Keith removed her mask, wiping sweat off her brow, and delivered the full searing heat of her glare to the ass clown who flinched and edged away, as if he thought laser beams would shoot from them. Once she got a fill of his fear, she went back to her spot on the bleachers.

“Alright, campers. We have ten minutes left in class, which gives us enough time for one more match. Anyone interested?”

For a heartbeat, no one said anything or moved. Keith peeled off her gloves and stuffed them into her helmet, intending to take a quick shower before catching a nap. At least, that was the plan until a tall figure broke away from the crowd, mask on, sword draped over their shoulders, stepped onto the mat.

“Alrighty then, our last challenger!” Coran cried. “Keith, if you please?”

A part of her was annoyed she couldn’t escape earlier. Another part of her was intrigued by this brave soul. Eyes narrowing, Keith slipped back on her gloves and mask, grabbed her sword, and went back onto the mat.

“Ready?” Coran asked.

“Ready.” Keith answered back.

Across from her, the mysterious opponent nodded.

“En Garde!”

Keith immediately lunged into attack, slashing here and there. It was a strategy that usually helped her figure out how strong her opponent’s defense was before she leaned in for the kill. Each blow she delivered, her opponent blocked with a parry, heels digging as she shoved back, edging towards the end of the mat.

Then, just when Keith was sure she had them, the tip of the opposing sword slashed, knocking her sword aside. Before she had the chance to grab it, it was retrieved by her opponent who caught it in their free hand and lunged.

By the time Keith realized what was happening, she was staring up at the ceiling, pain drumming along her spine from the hard fall she took. She could hear the calls around her, Coran asking if she was alright. She was vaguely aware of the hard thundering of her heart. But her mind was fixated on the fight, the speed, the quick reflex and strong defense, allowing Keith to become too sure of her victory before she got cut down. That sense of déjà vu returned, biting into her head.

“You’re good.”

Keith used her elbows to lift herself up a bit, staring up at her opponent now standing in front of her.

“Definitely good, but you’re too impatient which can be a disadvantage used against you. Like my old mentor used to say…”

The opponent pulled off her mask. The first thing Keith saw was snow-white lower-cut hair before the black, a sparkly diamond gleaming from her nose, the shine almost as bright as her smile.

“Patience yields focus.” Shiro finished off.

Keith was on the verge of rolling her eyes, annoyed that she had to meet her would-have-been hookup again in her class of all places, until those words spilled out. The familiar phase made Keith’s breath catch in her throat before dropping down to her heart that shriveled up and fell all the way down to her feet.

In that moment, Keith wasn't a twenty years old camp counselor, trying to come to terms with what just happened. Instead she was a ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen year old girl stepping into the mat under the beaming hot lights, heartbeat barely heard over the thunderous applause as she stood across from a girl. A girl that was smaller than her, faster than her, and better than her.

Always so damn fucking better no matter how tried Keith trained. Always sending Keith that all too-pleased, sugary-sweet smile as she accepted her trophy and said into the mic thrust at her face, at the crowd who cheered for her, at Keith who doing her hardest to ignore the sting burning her eyes as she said that famous motto:

“Patience yields focus.”

_Oh my god._

Shiro-Ms. Amazon-Takashi fucking Shirogane leaned forward and stuck her hand out to Keith. “Good game.”

Good game, she’d say as they were forced to shake hands at the end of their match. Good game, she’d whisper to Keith as they passed each other in the competition halls, the Champ flocked by dozens of people while Keith was the lone wolf who kept her eyes focused on Pa as she walked towards him. Good game, she’d write on purple post-its that always stuck to Keith’s locker when she finally made her way to the locker room, signed with a smiley face that might as well have been a fist twisting her insides.

Keith stared at the metal hand, at the facial features that were older but slowly becoming clearer to her, at that smile that made her blood boil more than anything else.

She did the one thing that one would do in this situation, coming face to face with a crush you met the first night back, discovering said crush was the same rival you never expected or wanted to see again.

She grasped onto that hand and tugged down hard, watching said-rival land hard on their stomach, nearly breaking their chin on the way down.

The moment she was down, Keith grabbed her things and stormed out of the gym, aware all eyes were on hers. Though none were more shocked or intent than Takashi Shirogane’s.


	2. Ready and Strike

Growing up, Keith had always been that girl. That troubled girl. That girl with the fiery-red temper and reckless mouth. That girl who was always angry, always loud. Always too much and never enough with dozens of theories as to why.

Because her mother left long before Keith could even form a memory of her. Because school and anything simple was too advanced for her dim-witted ADHD brain. Because her father indulged in her rage, in her fire, seeing it as a charm where everyone else saw it as a curse.

Her dad, her Pop. One of the few people and the one constant in her life she could always count on. Always supportive, always gentle, loving her twice as hard. He was the one who inspired her to turn that anger into something productive of all things, such as fighting. Self-defense and Taekwondo, but the one thing she loved was knives.

A love that was inspired by the fierce Disney Princess Keith watched on TV that was the closest she saw to a cartoon version of herself (even if their Asian backgrounds were different), and a tomboy too on top of that-just like Keith. Watching Mulan fling back what the bullies threw at her, what the Captain threw at her, how she turned from an unlikable burden to a beloved hero, Keith decided she wanted to be exactly like that.

First time she picked up her fencing sword, she felt incredible. First time she went to practice and was gifted with praise by her teachers, she felt strong. First time she stepped up to the mat to face an opponent, taking them down in a matter of seconds after spotting several weak spots, she felt powerful. And happy.

The pride and admiration in her dad’s eyes that first match was similar to the bright warmth glowing inside her, even if his next set of words did dim some of that light.

“Tiny but fierce. Just like your mother,” he beamed, running his hair through her hair.

 _No, I’m not_ , she wanted to protest, feeling nausea swimming through her stomach like a shark. _I’m like you. I only want to be like you._

The parent who didn’t walk away shortly after Keith came along, never to be seen again, sending the occasional letter and birthday card that remained untouched. The parent who always listened to her side of the story first before anyone else, especially the offended teacher or snubbed parent to the snobbier kid. The parent who never failed to make her feel like she was something when most people around her were convinced she was less than nothing.

Keith was tempted to tell him so to his face. To remind him that though her features were eerily similar to her mother’s, she was still entirely his daughter. But with one look into his face that was for once free of worry lines he usually tried to mask with a smile, she swallowed down her words and chose to focus on the gentle hand running through her hair.

That smile, that pride, those were motivations. Her drive to go faster, go harder, be better. With each lesson, with each match she went through and won, slowly raising through the ranks.

Then the Champ came along, a six-year child prodigy from Japan, quickly making a name for herself with each quick match, each incredible fight, demolishing opponents like pieces of a chessboard.

Always with that ghost of a smile that made Keith’s teeth set on edge each time their eyes met. Always, easily reading Keith’s mind and striking her down before she could carry on with the move. Always pinning Keith to the ground with that smug, little smile of hers saying:

“Patience yields focus.”

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, as if Keith didn’t feel humiliated after each match, as if her body and mind didn’t ache from the amount of energy she thrown in only to have it be quickly tamed and flattened, she’d march over to the locker with the sole intention to wash herself off and go home before the anger stirring in her stomach exploded, she’d find that note. A purple post-it stamped on her locker: _Good Game, Red._

Last match they had together, Keith was thirteen and Takashi was ten. She tried to ignore the empty seat behind her that used to be filled. She tried to block out the deafening chants of the crowd crying, “Champion! Champion! Champion!” She tried to ignore that smile, a faint crack to the smooth stoned exterior of the younger girl, her lips curling into that ghost smile as they faced each other before the masks were tugged down and swords were drawn.

Keith had thrown everything she had into that fight, her speed, her accuracy that her coach praised her for, her anger. Every trick and move up her sleeve. Bleeding frustration and fury into her move over the empty chair behind her and how this little brat always won. Yet in the end, it didn’t make a lick of difference.

In the end, as everything in her life, it didn’t matter.

She tried and failed. She tried and it didn’t matter. She was taken out. The Champion won. Again.

Which was why when she had walked over to Keith and offered her a hand, Keith studied her for nearly a minute before she grabbed that hand and yanked down hard, a shiver of dark satisfaction slithering in her stomach as she watched the reigning Champ fall face-first to the ground, her chin banging hard on the floor. Suddenly the deafening loud arena fell to total silence, even the flashes of the cameras were on mute.

Calmly as she could, Keith rose to her feet and looked down at Takashi, who was covering her lower mouth with her hand, crimson red leaking through the cracks of her fingers. Once she caught Keith’s eye, Keith flashed a smile that was more teeth than anything else.

“Good game, Chump.”

That was the last time she ever competed in fencing, sticking to practicing until a few years later she would use her fencing skills to join her college’s team and pay for college. And teaching it during the summer to score some cash. But that match was the last she ever saw Takashi Shirogane.

At least until now.

_FUCK!_

It was the one word playing in a constant loop, blasting through her brain.

_FUCK. FUCK. FUCK._

It was the one word bashing into her mind like a hammered nail as Keith stormed out of the gym and blew through the camp.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck.

Her feet led her to the lake, towards the end of the pier. She slipped off her shoes and hung her feet over the ledge, dipping her toes into the cool water.

Only her. This could only happen to her. The same girl Keith built a fast attraction to, had been looking out for during the past week, was also the same girl she never wanted to see again. And at camp, the same camp where she works, of all times, as if Lady Fate decided her summer should be the remake of a crappy 90s movie.

If Lance found out, he’d say comedy. For Hunk, he’d probably try to soften it to a romcom, which made her roll her eyes while her stomach churned.

And now? Well…Keith frowned down at her reflection rippling in the water. Now she had no clue what she wanted to do.

“One of these days that face will be permanently like that and best believe I will be documenting that moment.”

 _Of course_. Closing her eyes, Keith breathed in deeply, trying to tame the migraine rolling down her head like a bowling ball.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that.”

She didn’t even have to turn around to know that stupid, annoying face on his face was there. “Love you too, sweet cheeks.”

She rolled her eyes. Lance took his seat beside her, slipping bare feet into the water.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Well then explain.”

“Explain what?”

“How Camp Malden’s least favorite counselor became the hot topic of the day?”

So much for trying to tame the migraine. “Lance.”

“Have to say, I’m surprised. I thought I was the dramatic one of the group.”

Keith removed her feet from the water and brought her knees up to her chin, burying her face into her lap. She wished that the earth would swallow her up. Or for the pier to break open underneath her and for the lake to simply have her. If Lance already heard about it, she didn’t even want to know how fast it spread to the rest of the camp. She could already hear the morning highlights now.

Scary camp counselor too scared to accept a bow.

“Keith.” A bony finger poked into her shoulder. “Keke.”

“You know I hate that nickname.”

More poking. Keith knew Lance would keep at it until she popped, so she might as well save herself her energy.

“Do you remember that girl I met at the bonfire?”

“The one who got you so hot and bothered?”

Ignoring that comment, Keith went on, “I met her today. In my last fencing class. She’s a camper.”

“Oh.” His excitement deflected just a bit. “Okay, that’s a…wow.”

Wow indeed. Ironically enough that wasn’t the kicker. “She’s also…”

“Also?”

Keith let her legs drop, feet dripping back into the water. “I found out she's the former Champ.”

“Oh- _oh! Oh!_ ” Understanding and similar shock slapped onto his face. “The Champ? As in-”

Keith confirmed it with a nod. “The all-time winning, always-golden fencing Champion. One and the same.”

Who always wiped the floor with her every single time.

For a few minutes, silence fell between the two, Lance staring down at his lap, Keith at the water. Above them, the sky was a mix of Starburst orange and cotton candy pink.

“Okay,” Lance finally said. “That is awkward.”

Keith snorted. “You think?”

“But it doesn’t have to be.”

Keith glanced over at him. Lance set both hands on the pier, leaning back. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said. “It’s been years since you’ve seen each other, right?”

Almost seven years now, give or take if the numbers were right. Keith confirmed it with a nod.

“And it’s clear that she was into whatever sexual tension was brewing between the two of you the other night.”

“She was-”

Lance looked up and shot her a pointed look. “The fact you barely noticed my presence while standing a foot away from my DJ booth proves it.”

Keith’s mouth was opened, ready to fire her next reply, but she found that she was empty of amino. Tempted as she was to call Lance out on his crap, memories from the bonfire replayed in her head. How she easily was caught in those soft, warm eyes when they locked on her. How her insides felt hot as fire when Ms. Amazon moved closer to her. The second her panties were nearly gone as that sly temptress rose from the shy puppy, laying down a proposal that was too good to refuse.

Just thinking about it made her insides flare up, warm slithering like a snake. In the end, all she could do was close her eyes, take in a deep breath, and hope her face wasn’t bright red.

Lance thankfully was oblivious to her emotional whiplash, going on with his Sherlock Holmes analysis. “Besides, awkward as it may be, it doesn’t mean things have to be bad. I mean, she doesn’t remember you right?”

Once again her mouth was opened but no reply was coming out. Keith thought over their past interactions, Takashi’s reactions. She dropped that catchphrase when Keith was under her, so it could be possible she did. Not just possible, but also very likely. No one, unless a hardcore devoted fangirl, knew that phase other than the Champ. Maybe something gave Keith away, although she couldn’t figure out what. Unless somehow Ms. Amazon sprouted out the line at random as advice, which was a believable theory since that was something Champ usually did. It could be possible that Takashi didn’t know who she was and it was just random.

A peddle sat uncomfortably at the pit of her stomach at the thought.

“Yeah, I suppose,” she muttered.

Lance stayed with her a few minutes until he dragged her up to her feet and away to the dining hall since her hungry Resting Bitch face was on. Keith wasn’t sure about that, but her stomach did roar at the smell of roasted potatoes and steak when they entered.

Apparently Hunk heard about the incident first since the kitchen seemed to be the place to hear gossip-not to mention several campers from that same fencing class were gossiping about it when they came in, and were spreading word around to their friends. The second he saw Keith, he flashed a smile and passed over a steaming plate of food. Of course, before she had the chance to eat, Rosa pounced and struck her with a scolding so harsh, Keith’s lowered head was nearly hitting the ground, while Lance was barely hiding his snickering as he shoved food into her mouth. Hunk, God bless his sweet soul, might have argued with scolding, might have been tempted to laugh at Keith’s embarrassment, at least had the common courtesy to keep his mouth shut and swat Lance at the back of the head with his dishcloth.

But she was fed, so that was the only thing she’d focus on. That and the possible second helping she may get.

By the time Keith was walking back to her cabin, she was hit by both a stuffed stomach and a massive food coma that was making it hard for her to walk on steady legs. The heaviness of her limbs didn’t help either, making her want to collapse onto the ground and just sleep for the rest of the summer.

Tempted as she was, Keith wasn’t in the mood to worry about ants crawling all over her or frostbite, so she persevered with the heavy exhaustion, the stuffed stomach, and food coma brain, forcing her feet to move one after the other.

Letting out a huge yawn, she crossed the final steps of her room and pulled the doors open, first the wired metal, then the wooden door. A step into the cabin, her food coma and need for sleep were pushed to side as her jaw smacked down to the floor.

Of course. Of fucking course. As if her day wasn’t bad enough, as if fate didn’t already toy with her enough, it was somehow deemed necessary to throw in more concept to keep Keith on her toes. Because that was the only logical explanation she could think of that explained why the hell Tasaki Shirogane was doing in her cabin, in the usually empty left side, standing on top of the bed and on her tip-toes, pinning a wide poster on the wall that empty when Keith left this morning and was now plastered with pictures.

For nearly a minute, Keith stood there frozen. Shiro’s face looked a bit pink, probably flushed from the heat, as if she’d be redecorating for hours. Her hair was tied into a tiny, messy ponytail with more hair slipping out of the black hair tie than in. She was dressed in another tight-fitting tank top that was adorned with puppies that should’ve diminished her looks, but somehow added an extra endearing charm, which wasn’t fair in the slightest. Especially as she struggled with the top corners, causing the tank top to rid up, exposing muscles rippling from lower back, disappearing into the material. And short, short black shorts that demanded attention to the thick-thighed, muscular legs that nearly put Keith into cardiac arrest when she first saw them, along with that plump, round ass.

Dear God, fate truly wanted to kill her.

No sooner did the thought run through her head, Keith wanted to smack herself silly. What the hell was she doing? She was acting like a flustered baby gay, drooling over a camper a few years younger than her. She was drooling over the once-deemed bane of her existence. 

“Dear fuck,” Keith groaned.

Takashi’s head swerved over to her so fast, that Keith was surprised her neck didn’t snap. She was even more surprised that the Earth didn’t do its job and swallow her up already.

“Uh…hi,” Keith said, cheeks burning.

“Hi,” Takashi repeated back, tone sounding hesitant. Not that Keith entirely blamed her, considering how their last meeting went.

“You’re my roommate,” Keith said, and then fought the urge to smack herself for her sheer stupidity. Seriously, her mouth just wanted her to suffer.

“Yeah.” Again, there was that hesitant touch. At least Takashi was nice enough to pair it with a smile.

“And a camper.” Okay, she was seriously going to have to consider stapling her mouth shut.

“And you’re a counselor.” Something about Takashi’s tone, a teasing, almost too-pleasant tone caused Keith’s skin to nearly bristle. She could hear the other words Takashi wanted to add to the title: failed competing fencer, average instructor (least in the Champ’s eyes), sore loser.

 _She might not remember you_ , Lance’s earlier words reminded.

“That would be me.” Keith answered back as evenly as she could and came inside.

She felt those eyes fixed on her as she grabbed her towel and small bag of bathroom gear, heading inside the bathroom, proud that she didn’t miss a beat-even though a small part of her wanted to slam the door. Minutes later, Keith was thoroughly washed and scrubbed but still pissed. She tried prolonging the inevitable by slowly drying herself off twice, making sure every spot was good, then lathered herself with lotion, and another layer because she really didn’t want to go out there and be faced with questions she wasn’t ready to ask.

When it was clear there was nothing left to go besides watch the steam filling the bathroom slowly fade away, Keith turned the knob, pulled open the door, and stepped back out.

She was so used to the left side being empty, that it was odd seeing an actual person there. It was odder seeing how different the sides were when you compared them side by side. On Keith’s side, there were discarded clothes by the foot of the bed that didn’t make it into her laundry basket, a few photos by the window frame of Kolivian and another one of her with Pop, but other than that it looked pretty bare. Meanwhile on the left side, it looked like someone actually lived there.

From the window frame that was already taken by small stacks of books and journal, along with another stacks of books and journals sitting on top of her nightstand, behind her lamp. There was a red bean-bag chair that looked so comfy that was by the foot of her bed. Then there was her wall. On the left side was a poster of five Korean girls in red dresses and crowns seated against wooden doors, eyes closed, heads laid upon each other’s shoulders. On the right side was a black, grayish golden poster of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, armed with two stakes. In between the two was a fan-art picture of Princess Leia in her classic white dress and space-buns hairstyle. Below those pictures, what took up most of the space of the wall was inky-black night sky with thousands of gleaming silver stars.

“Wow,” Keith breathed, impressed.

Apparently she might have been louder than she thought since Takashi’s head flew over to her. For a moment, the two stared at each other, and Keith’s stomach twisted from the uncomfortable silence, until a soft smile curved Takashi’s mouth, sparking a flicker of warmth that flashed through Keith’s twisted insides.

“What can I say?” Takashi shrugged. “I love the stars.”

Allowing a smile to grace her own lips, Keith dumped her towel, along with the other clothes, into the basket and sat on her bed. “Yeah, I could tell kinda tell.”

She jerked her head towards the poster, oddly amused by the deeper shade the pink of Shiro’s face was undergoing, ducking her head and rubbing the back of her neck. It was both mildly annoying and endearing that someone could be that cute, so easily.

“What can I say?” Takashi gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m a basic nerd. Star Wars is my first love-” She jerked a thumb at Princess Leia. “But I will always carry a torch for Buffy.”

“Now all you need is something Harry Potter related to complete the Holy Trinity of nerd-dom.”

“I would,” Takashi said. “In fact, I did. A whole bookshelf-worth of them. However when a certain author decided to make perfectly clear how unapologetic she is with her transphobic trash, decided it was time to retire the house colors.”

Given the author’s recent storm of shitty Tweets that landed her in the deep, deep sea of no return, Keith agreed. She directed her attention over to the group of five girls in red. “And them?”

Takashi’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You’re joking, right?”

An unexpected giggle/snort shot up her throat, nearly threatening to come out. Keith studied the picture again. “Um, BLACKPINK?”

If those eyes were any wider, Keith was sure they’d fall right out of their sockets. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

“Uh…”

Takashi placed one hand against the wall to keep herself steady as she slumped against it, the other clutching onto her chest. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t die on me, kid,” Keith warned. “I don’t want to fill in an incident report. They’re a bitch to do.”

“Well, I nearly did today.”

And there it was. Keith winced. Okay. She deserved that jab. She was just hoping that the question would come up later, long enough for her to deliver a reasonably decent explanation.

“Sorry about that,” she grumbled. She pulled away the blanket before slipping inside, hoping Takashi would take the hint and save her question for tomorrow.

Sadly, no such luck. “Mind explaining?”

“Muscle cramp.”

“Muscle cramp?”

“Yeah,” Since that was the option her mouth decided to spit out, Keith had no other choice but to roll with it. “I get them at random times.”

“Okay.” Takashi drawled, which Keith knew that she didn’t believe her one damn bit. Not that she blamed her. It was a lame excuse even to her own ears.

Keith uncapped her water bottle with her teeth and took a quick swig, needing something to do. She placed the bottle back on her window frame and laid flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling for awhile before her eyes flickered back to Takashi who went back to her decorating.

Truth be told, the more she thought about it, the more Keith found she wasn’t that surprised that she didn’t recognize Takashi in the first place. Last time she saw her, Takashi was a tiny string-bean kid that looked much younger than her actual age, thanks to her baby-face and short stature. Her hair fully black and always tied into a neat braid, a strand never falling out of place. Now she could see how much her former rival changed. Really changed. Grown-up and filled out, impossibly out, hair now cut short with a silvery white streak, all the features that were adorable as a kid and now unfairly attractive as a teenager. Unfairly, impossibly attractive.

 _Stop it, Keith_ , she chided herself. Damn it.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Huh.” Keith snapped out of her head and back into the present. Takashi frowned at her.

“Are you okay?” she repeated again. “You look a little…flushed.”

 _Shit._ Keith touched one cheek and winced at how hot it felt against her hand. If her skin felt that hot, there was no telling how red her face actually was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A bit hot. I just need…” Keith’s voice trailed off as she reached the bottle and realized how empty it was. Shit. She also didn’t bring water bottle cases with her, and the dining hall wouldn’t be open until morning.

Fuck.

Takashi stepped off her bed with a skip, reached underneath her bed, and pulled out a large bottle of Poland Springs, tossing it over to her.

“Uh, thanks.” Keith took the bottle, surprised to find out it was cool too.

“No problem.” Takashi smiled.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Seventeen, but will be eighteen in a few months.”

“Oh cool.”

“What about you?”

Of course that question would be asked the moment Keith decided to take a sip of water. Thankfully she managed to reel in enough of her reflexes to keep her jaw shut before any water sprayed out. “Me?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Takashi sat down on her own bed and rubbed the side of her neck, face going from pink to red. “Honestly when we first met, I thought you were a camper too.”

Keith supposed she couldn’t blame her. At the bonfire, she was the only camp counselor who didn’t have the counselor shirt on and was on her own private island while the rest of the counselors were gathered to the side. It didn’t help (or she supposed in one’s case hurt) that her face was pretty youthful.

“You’re off by three years.” Keith answered. “I’m twenty.”

“Oh.” Intrigue glinted in Takashi’s eyes.

“Yeah, but-” Keith bit down on her lip.

“But?” Takashi parroted.

Keith looked up at her again. Why did she have to be so cute? Why the hell was she even thinking that thought in the front place? She took in a deep breath and asked, “Is there anything else you thought of me?”

A confused frown marred Takashi’s face, and Keith decided to go right in for the kill.

“Do you remember me?”

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. By the time silence spread over to a fifth heartbeat, Keith looked up again. Takashi looked back at her, mouth pinched, brows ceased, as if Keith’s features were a puzzle she was trying to piece together.

Keith was ready to tell Takashi to forget about it and call it a night, but then she finally spoke, saying the following words:

“Should I?”

Wow….just…wow…

There was no reason why a lump should be clogged in the middle of her throat, blocking airflow as it burnt away. There was no reason why her eyes were hot with tears she struggled to keep in. There was no reason why her face felt hot, as if she took a hard knock to the cheek.

No reason. Absolutely no reason at all.

That didn’t stop her from feeling it and doing her hardest not to give into the feeling.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“I’m tired.” Keith dropped the half-empty bottle on the nightstand and turned over to the window.

“But I-”

“Night.”

“Keith, I didn’t mean-”

“Goodnight.” A hard crack slipped into her voice.

Eventually, Takashi took the hint and walked over to her side. Minutes later, the light was turned off and it wasn’t long before she heard snoring.

Of course Takashi didn’t remember her. Of course she had no clue who Keith was. Why should she? She was barely a thought to anyone. Not to the crowd and judges who didn’t think she belonged to their elite sport. Not to teachers. Not to the principal. Not the social worker that was assigned to her after Pop died, placing her in several foster homes, each one rougher than the last before Kolivan finally gained custody. 

Which suited Keith just fine.

~…..~

The next few days continued on uneventfully. Wake up at the blare of the horn, report to Iverson’s office to get her schedule and daily tasks, meet up with Lance and Hunk at the dining hall for breakfast, and meet Coran at the gym for their classes. The difference was that now she had a name and a face to her roommate. Now she had a face to wake up to. Another body moving through the cabin, making her presence known but subtle.

All things considered Takashi turned out to be a decent roommate. A lot better than the previous ones Keith had been saddled with during her years as a camper. She’d be up long before sunrise, off on her morning jog, which meant Keith didn’t have to worry about an awkward run-in during the morning. During the afternoons Takashi was in and at nighttime before lights out, she’d have her air pods plug into her devices or her nose in one of the many books she brought along with her, sparing them the idea of even considering small talk after how well the last conversation went. She was also a massive neat freak keeping her side insanely tidy.

Sure, there were times when she’d be typing away at her laptop, the sounds of keys banging heavy as footsteps, or scribbling away in her journals with the lamp light still obnoxiously on well until the night, but Keith supposed there needed to be some flaws to keep Takashi from being too perfect.

Overall, she was a good roommate. The issue was when Takashi wasn’t busy with her show-binging, reading, journal scribbling, exercising, or being swallowed up by her groups of friends, she seemed to be paying close attention to Keith. In the dining hall while they were eating, when they crossed paths, when they were in their own room, and especially during fencing classes.

At first Keith tried to ignore the sensation of those two eyes boring holes into the back of her head, her side, like background noise. Yet the more Keith ignored her staring, the more intense the staring got, quickly going from being barely tolerable to fucking annoying. Particularly because Takashi made clear that Keith wasn’t even worth remembering in the first place. What made it worse was the fact, despite herself, Keith found herself staring back at her, feeling those weird electric butterflies buzzing inside her stomach, averting her gaze when she realized she was looking too long.

During her last class, Takashi didn’t bother picking up a sword for another rematch, deciding to sit on the sidelines while other campers stepped onto the mat along with her bespectacled friend.

Gunderson, Pidge Gunderson. Short but packed with plenty of spitfire she easily released through snippy comments and facial expressions that would have been almost comical. If not for the fact that she was currently unleashing spitting that fire at Coran.

“Come on, Missy,” Coran called. “You’re up next.”

“No really, I’m good.”

An arched brow rose and Keith was sure she saw that mustache twitched along with his left eye. “We’re nearly a month in and you haven’t shown us what you’re made of.”

“Sugar and spice and everything not nice.”

Before she could help or stop herself, Keith snorted, drawing an annoyed glare from Pidge and a curious one from Takashi. The first she replied to an eye-roll, the latter she tried to brush aside with a careless shrug.

“Yes, well,” Coran’s mouth was turned down to a frown. “Part of class attendance is class participation, which so far you seem to be lacking.”

“But this isn’t school. This is camp. Last I checked, we’re not being graded on participation.”

Murmurs broke out across the room, half in annoyance, the other in agreement, eyes darting between her and Coran who was fidgeting over the strained silence, pulling at his collar. Irritation swelled inside Keith’s chest as she glanced over from the beads at sweat lining along his forehead to the look of pure satisfaction glowing in the Munchkin’s eyes as she leaned back, arms folded across her chest, lips turned in a triumphant smile like she’d already won.

Keith knew that smile. She hated that smile. It was the smile that reeked of the privileged and proud. A smile of holier-than holy self-righteous, because they were always right, of course they were right and everyone else was wrong. She’d seen that smile on every troll who took in her worn clothes and ratty sneakers, her mixed half-Korean features, and decided she was less than nothing.

“Besides-” Gunderson was ready to add more to her little speech, but Keith was done listening to her, cutting off the little troll before she said anything else that would really set her off.

“Cut that mouth and get your ass to the mat.”

Judging by the loud silence that struck the room and the stunned looks on all their faces, there was a good chance Keith had been pushed to her limit. Around her jaws were dropped and eyes were wide, especially Gunderson who looked as if she nearly got skinned alive from her tone alone.

Only one person who didn’t look petrified: Takashi, who was now frowning at her. Keith quirked her brow, and the girl took that as a moment to speak.

“There’s no need to be rude.”

Because somehow her friend was Sally Sunshine? Please. Keith snorted, rolling her eyes. “Last I checked, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Okay, this time she could harsh bite of her tone. Not that she cared much.

Takashi’s eyes narrowed. “Well now I’m talking to you.”

Keith gave her a biting smile. “Too bad you aren’t saying anything worth listening to.”

Takashi’s eyes widened a fraction bigger, an unreadable glint sheering her eyes, before they narrowed into slits. A strange delight that pricked Keith’s chest as she met those eyes coolly, and then turned her frosty glare over to Gunderson.

“Your ass to the mat.” Keith demanded.

Shock darkly spun into irritation on the young girl’s face. Her lips were opened, about to launch another retort, but before she said anything, Takashi’s hand clamped on her shoulder. Possibly a bit hard, judging by her grimace, but it didn’t mean that Takashi paid much attention to it.

She kept her eyes locked on Keith as she rose to her feet and called to Coran, “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d like to take Pidge’s place.”

Coran’s eyes glanced between the two nervously. “Oh-well-that’s-”

“In fact I’d love to do a practice run with Ms. Kogane.”

A scowl slashed across Keith’s face. Practice, her ass. This chick knew exactly what she was doing.

“Awfully kind of you to offer, but there’s really no need.”

“I insist.” Takashi smiled warmly while her eyes said a million other things.

“And I decline.” Keith shot back.

A chorus of “oohs” went around the room and the gawking stares intensified, burning more than dozens sets of holes into Keith’s neck and side.

Takashi’s smile didn’t slip for a minute. Instead it changed, becoming softer yet sharp at once, empty of its previous warmth yet laced with an amusement that got Keith’s blood boiling. “It will be just like old times, Red.”

For a second, Keith wondered if it was possible her hearing went out, hoped for it even because the alternative was a whole lot worse. But Takashi’s smile remained, broadening as if she sensed the exact moment those words, that name sank into her skin, into her veins, sparking a fury that roared inside her.

_This little bitch._

“I think we already used up enough time-” Coran tried to say, but Keith spoke over him, her words loud and sharp.

“Get your ass to the mat then, Chump!”

Takashi’s smile vanished.

Keith grabbed her sword and pulled down her mask. Minutes later, the two stood across from each other, masks on, swords drawn.

“Ready?” Coran called out, though he sounded nervous.

Takashi nodded once. Keith’s grip tightened.

“En Garde.”

The words barely left Coran’s mouth before Takashi flew at Keith full force, sword darting there and there so fast, it was a blur of whistling silver. So different from her usual way of fighting, where she’d play defense before attack that anyone else probably would have faltered from the attack. Too bad for her, Keith wasn’t just anyone. She may not have won all those fights, collected all those medals, but she definitely planned to make her sweat.

Takashi struck, Keith dodged. Keith stepped around and she charged, narrowly getting in a good hit.

“Ladies! This is simply a practice run! Remember, a practice run!”

Keith tried to sweep underneath her feet, knowing it was an illegal move, but wanting to see her fall just the same. Takashi leaped, attempting to strike her above, just at her shoulder. Keith barely had time to dodge that hit before her sword came down for another attack.

“I see you still have that fiery spirit,” Takashi smirked.

Keith pushed her away, pleased at her slight stumble, and sneered, “And I still see you’re the same class-A, Golden-girl stuck-up I remember.”

Takashi’s sword swung down and Keith used her own sword to block the blow.

“And a two-faced one at that.”

A near slash to her face caused Keith to leap back, heart thundering.

At one point, the swords were twisted and bent, bringing in faster arms and legs that were a blur of limbs, colliding and parting.

“Ladies, that’s enough. That’s enough- _ugggh!_ ”

The blow Takashi threw that was intended for Keith’s face was thrown off course by the elbow Keith shoved hard into her side, shoving her away, directing that punch straight towards Coran’s face as he came over to them. Watching the accident go down was like watching a horrifying car crash in slow motion, featuring every horrible detail. One moment Takashi’s fist was swinging. The next, Keith had her by the shirt collar and an elbow to her side. The next where Coran was sandwiched between them. Then at the last moment, Coran’s head was knocked towards the opposite direction, several teeth flying from his mouth, body hitting the ground with a hard thump.

_Shit!_

Keith’s adrenaline was drained in an instant, replaced by shock and fear. “Coran, are you okay?”

“What the hell is going on around here?”

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Iverson stepped into the gym, passing through the anxious crowd easily like the Red Sea, steely eyes taking in every detail of this scene. Their disheveled, flushed appearance, their broken swords tossed to the side, and Coran with his broken nose on the ground as Gunderson and a few other people tried to help him up.

“My office. Now.”

~…..~

If there was one thing that had been a near-constant in Keith’s life, it was this familiar scene. Her ass being seated in a hard plastic or faux suede chair that she could never get comfortable in, no matter how many times she shifted in her chair. An authoritative figure, face beet-red from barely-compressed anger or lined in disapproval, jaw clenched tight, staring down at her with that dark glare that promised worse circumstances if she so much as moved. The space around them small and narrow or big and wide, filled with tension that was tightly strung like violin’s strings, threatening apart any second.

When she was a kid, she’d keep her eyes focused on her shoes or the carpet, pretending there was an air bubble around her that blocked out the noise. As she got older, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead, right at the seething fucker to make clear she wasn’t scared of anything. No matter how loud their voice would boom or how much venom would be packed in their words.

Keith kept her eyes right at Iverson, watching that scowling face grow tighter, redder as he cursed and ranted at them for two hours straight. Beside her, Takashi sat with her legs squeezed together, feet bouncing, with her eyes focused on the ground.

“You!” Iverson pointed at Takashi. ‘I don’t know how things are done in California or how you could have imagined that just because we’re in summer, there aren’t consequences. Allow me to tell you, _you’re wrong_. Here-” He slammed his finger against his desk like gravel. “things are different. And I sure as hell don’t tolerate any bullshit or about your fancy schmancy godfather.”

Takashi swallowed, but kept those eyes focused on the ground.

“And you!” That harsh tone was a jaguar-edged knife as Iverson turned his attention to Keith. “She’s one thing, Kogane. You’re quite another.”

Keith held in her groan, bracing herself for the verbal lashing she’d get.

“You’ve been a pain in my side since day one but I had some hope that after you became a counselor, you’d finally grow up. Clearly I was wrong.” He hissed, disgust laid on thick.

Keith already felt that headache growing and rubbed at her temple, wincing. “Okay, look-”

“I think I know exactly how to stick the message through to make clear I don’t tolerate violence or bullshit.” Iverson let the silence rolled on. “Isolation confinement for two weeks. No other activities.” He glared at Takashi and then cut a look to Keith. “No classes or camp duties.”

“But-” Takashi began.

“Exactly. Your butts will be in your cabin and at the Dining Hall to pick up food before reporting back to the cabin for the next two weeks, so I suggest you two get comfortable with each other.”

Takashi’s face was so horror-stricken that Keith couldn’t help ripping a snort. A mistake she realized too late that cost her as Iverson said the following to her.

“I’m cutting two weeks’ pay from your paycheck as well.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Iverson scowled back at her. “Two weeks’ pay.”

Keith was aware vaguely of the chair being knocked to the floor as she stood up from her chair. She was aware that she was shaking her head like a loose bobble head. She was aware that Takashi was watching her, because she was always watching Keith. Only vaguely, though, because most of her mind was focused on the two weeks pay.

Pay that would help lessen her the massive set of college loans waiting for her back home.

Pay that would ease the burden of bills she already knew was growing by the second.

Pay that could help Kolivan

“No,” she shook her head violently, panic swelling inside her chest like a balloon. “Iverson, no. Listen, I’ll cover kitchen duty for a week. I’ll help with extra classes. Hell, the stables. Just-”

“All of which I’m considering adding to your punishment the more you run your mouth, Kogane. My decision is final. Dismissed.”

“But-”

“Dismissed.” The finality rang in his tone, making it clear that the conversation was over.

Keith felt that horrible, dark, fury-bound monster banging inside her chest, tightening her throat, stinging her eyes. Biting her lip hard, Keith stormed out of Iverson’s office before she did or said anything that made things worse.


	3. Waving White Flag

It was only a matter of time before Kolivan caught wind of her little tryst. No matter how near or far her uncle was away from her, even a good state away, he always somehow knew when something was up. It also didn’t help that he was very good friends with Rosa, Hunk easily cracked under pressure when being hit with his laser-beam glare, and Lance’s big mouth was as wide as the Nile River.

Which was why when Keith’s phone was buzzing in her back pocket minutes after she stormed out of Iverson’s office, batting down the urges that were screaming to punch something, she wasn’t at all surprised to see Kolivan’s name pop up on the caller ID.

Keith was tempted to push the ignore button, then switch off her phone altogether, not in the mood to deal another lecture/rant on the same day. But she knew her uncle. If he didn’t reach her by phone, then he’d try email. If not through email, then her friends. If by some miracle they didn’t crack, then he’d just use Iverson to deliver the message to her and that was the absolute last thing she needed.

Groaning, she swiped the call button, pressed the phone to her ear, and asked, “Was it Lance or Rosa who opened their big mouths?”

Without fail, tone flat and humorless, he answered back, “Both actually. The latter with a text message telling me to speak with you right away. The other through a video message begging me and I quote, ‘Talk some damn sense into my lovesick fool of a niece before she gets her ass fired. Or sued. Or both.’”

Making a mental note to kill Lance later, Keith replied, “I’m not some lovesick fool. That title belongs to Lance.”

“And clearly you’ve taken a page from his book.”

Keith rolled her eyes. People always got on her ass for her reckless tongue, but didn’t seem to get where she got it from. “Whatever. Besides this isn’t a lovesick case anyway. I don’t give a fuck what he says.”

“Which leaves only the fool part, yes?”

The phrase, “Bite me!” surged through her mouth, dangling just over the edge of her tongue, ready to dive. Keith chewed on her bottom lip to reel it in. Kolivan may tolerate a lot of things from her, probably even more than most, but even he had a limit she knew was dangerous to cross. Swallowing down the comment, she instead said, “Look, it isn’t that either.”

“Then what exactly is it?” Kolivan asked.

What was it about this week, this month, this place in general that hit Keith with questions she didn’t know how to answer, often times using the same answer. “I don’t know.”

Kolivan thankfully didn’t berate her for and his voice was nothing but total patience as he answered back, “Well then, I suggest you figure it out.”

Keth took in a slow, deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”

“Good.” A heartbeat later, and then he added,” Just don’t burn the whole place down in pursuit of that answer.”

A laugh burst out of her before she could stop herself, then another because her mind was trying to digest what he said. “Okay, I know I can be crazy sometimes-”

“Sometimes?” Kolivan inquired, sounding amused.

“Whatever,” Keith laughed. “I know I can be crazy, but I’m not that insane.”

“Let’s hope then the trigger to your recent behavior doesn’t push you that far.”

That, Keith couldn’t answer. Takashi just had that way of getting to her, most times without even trying which was infuriating.

They stayed on the phone for a few minutes. Keith managed to fill Kolivan in on the first month of camp, outside of her minor bumps. How her classes were really helping to improve her skills, and her ego might or might not be stroked from the quick wins she’d gained during practice runs. The amount of shit Lance got into, partially because he was a magnet for trouble, partially because he was still trying to woo Allura. Hunk and the insane creations he’d put together that somehow were becoming big hits at the camp. In return, Kolivan told her about what’s been going on at home, how Arizona entered record-breaking heat waves, the amount of times the ice cream truck has been driving by their neighborhood, all while avoiding questions on his leg.

By the time they hung up, Keith felt a little lighter than she did before, like a warm candle was burning in her chest. A candle that was instantly snuffed out when she turned around and saw that Takashi was right behind her. How long she’d been standing there, Keith had no idea, but she was hit with a sudden need to get a Raid bug spray can.

“Can I help you?” Keith asked evenly, though some annoyance leaked through her voice.

Takashi’s lips pursed thinly, as if she was carefully constructing her next set of words. In the end though, with a shake of her head, she decided not to say anything at all and walked away.

Six more weeks, Keith reminded herself, seething while walking the opposite direction. Six more weeks and then she’d never have to see Takashi again.

She could handle it.

She hoped.

******

It was one thing tolerating each other’s presence when they were coming in and out of their cabin like a one night stay at a motel, breezing in for sleep and showering and changing clothes, zooming right out to do other things and meet other people. Keith with her classes and whatever tasks were assigned for the day, Takashi with her camper schedule and whatever else she did outside of that. Being confined in their cabin and only their cabin was a whole other story. The place was thankfully bigger than the closet-size ones Keith had growing up, so it didn’t feel too claustrophobic, but there was only so much space one could move freely around with the heavy silence and tension filling up the room.

On the first night of their confinement, they rolled on their sides in their beds, pulled the covers over their heads, and fell asleep without exchanging another word. They pretty much kept the same routine going as the days went on. In the mornings, they passed by each other on their way to and from the bathroom. Takashi headed out to get her food from the dining hall while Hunk delivered Keith’s hers, saving her the trouble. After the morning, well into the night, they stayed at each other’s sides and entertained themselves with whatever they had.

Most times Keith stayed on her bed, scrolling through whatever app on her phone. Sometimes she practiced yoga by her closet, which offered her more space to stretch and move, putting some of her restless energy to good use, ignoring Takashi’s eyes as she watched her.

For Takashi, she had plenty to keep her occupied. Her books, her journals, her iPad, and phone. Whenever she wasn’t on any of those, she was exercising. Since Iverson cut her morning run, she switched to jogging in place by the foot of the bed for nearly an hour straight, breaths sharp and hard which Keith tried to ignore as she turned up the volume of her phone. After jogging, came lunging, then push-ups, then sit-ups. She even took up yoga, trying complex moves even Keith wouldn’t dare try out of fear for her spine. Keith tried her hardest to ignore her, even though there were times her eyes slipped, flickering over from her phone screen or the window to look over at Takashi. Paying close attention to those thick thighs and muscular arms.

If there was one activity Takashi seemed to be dedicated to, besides her work-out, it would be her journaling. She’d write in the journal before she started exercising. She’d write when she wasn’t on her devices or reading. She’d write well into the night, long after Keith went to bed, hand furiously scribbling ink across the pages, or fingers banging away at her laptop.

Sometimes, if she was tired enough, Keith didn’t mind her late-night tendencies. Some nights, she even found the sound of keyboards tapping away to be oddly soothing. Today however, it was not one of those days. She had woken up with a headache throbbing by her right temple that grew throughout the day, pulsing behind both eyelids at night. And the bright light that was still on wasn’t helping.

Groaning, Keith tried blocking out the light with her pillow, then the blanket, still feeling the light coming through. She ripped the blanket away, sat up in her bed, and looked over at Takashi who was hunched over her knees she was using as a desk for her journal.

“Do you mind?” It was the first thing Keith had said in the whole five days they’ve been locked up together.

Takashi glanced over at her, face unreadable.

“The light,” Keith clarified.

“In a minute,” she replied mildly, returning back to her writing.

Struggling to keep her tone even and wipe her tongue clean of the acid threatening to spill through, Keith said, “You are aware that it’s almost two in the morning and some of us would actually like to sleep.”

“And as I just said,” Takashi said, eyes on her paper. “I’ll be only a minute.”

Clenching her teeth, Keith rolled onto her side, pulled her pillow over her head, and tried to sleep.

Almost an hour passed by and Takashi was still at on, the sound of pen scraping against paper, pages turning, with the light _still fucking on_. Keith, now reaching her limit, took in a slow breath as she peeled away her blanket and climbed out of bed. Without sparing Takashi a glance, she marched over to the light switch that was by the wall near her bed, flipping it down. In an instant, the room was cast in darkness.

“Good. Night.”

No sooner did Keith take five steps away from the light switch, bright light flooded the room, nearly blinding her. Stunned, she looked over at Takashi who smirked at her, finger poised underneath the small, round light switch that was posted by her bedside.

“Sweet dreams,” she pleasantly replied.

_You’ve got to be kidding me_ , Keith seethed.

Gritting her teeth while counting down from ten, Keith flipped off the light. “Good night.”

A second later, the light returned. “Sweet dreams.”

Growling, she switched off the light only for Takashi to flip it back on. Keith glared at her and Takashi returned the look with a cool one of her own.

Challenge accepted. The two went at it, the light flickering on and off, darkness and light flashing like a show, glares growing darker with each one and off. Until finally with a sizzle and a pop, the lights exploded, from the center light bulb, the light by the bathroom, the front porch light and back door light, plunging them into darkness.

“Well congrats,” Takashi’s voice was cool. “You got exactly what you wanted.”

“Bite me, bitch!” Keith snapped.

She heard the creaking of the bed, followed by heavy steps nearing her. She might have been blind, but she could easily tell the intensity of a glare when it landed on her.

“Keep pushing me,” Takashi warned, voice turning on a brisk edge. “And I just might.”

Keith moved forward, but a firm chest to her chest shoved her back. Even though there was no light, even though she could hardly see her own hands, she felt that infuriating smile as Takashi delivered her next words.

“Besides, if my memory serves me well, Red, I easily beat your ass when we were kids and again here. Twice.”

_That’s it!_

A fist flew before Keith’s brain kept up with what was happening. Takashi caught her hand before it landed the blow, grasping her wrist tight enough to make Keith nearly wince. She was too focused on her caught arm to notice the foot that swung by the side of her leg, knocking her down.

That should have been enough. That should have been the end. But Takashi grabbed hold of her other wrist as she fell along with Keith, pinning them to her head as her back smacked against the floor, thighs caging her waist, making escape impossible.

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith screamed.

Gray eyes stared down at her. “You done yet?”

“ _Get the fuck off me!_ ”

Takashi only tightened her hold, hands and thighs squeezing her so tight, it was almost painful. Keith’s brain and heart were frozen as she realized exactly how close they were, taking note of the heat radiating off her. The more she tried to shake off the small notable fact, the more attention her mind and body paid it.

_So warm. Too damn warm._

“Had enough?” Takashi’s quiet question was like a bucket of cold water, clearing up the fog that was clouding her head.

“Get. Off. Of. Me.”

“No.”

“Chump, unless you want a fat lip, you get the fuck off. Now!”

“Try it,” Takashi said. “I’m sure Iverson is interested in ducking more of your check.”

Keith lunged, but Takashi had all the advantage, using her weight to keep her in place.

“I’m not getting up until you hear my proposal.”

Keith glared up at her.

“One last match, you and me. To settle things once and for goddamn all.”

“How about no?”

“What’s wrong, Red? Scared?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you accept or not?”

Keith was about to tell her where she could stick her little proposal, but then her conversation with Kolivan floated back to her. He said she should do what she had to do to handle her little problem. Maybe a rematch with just the two of them, no audience, no referee was exactly she needed. “Fine.”

Takashi looked like she was ready to repeat herself, but then stopped, eyes widening from Keith’s agreement.

“Now,” Keith kept her tone light. “Would you please get off me? Because I’m telling you right now, at this moment, I could easily say fuck you to Iverson and this job and deliver you that fat lip.”

She compiled, slowly though, limb by limb. It took everything for Keith to focus on keeping her breathing even and not the warmth slowly untangling from her.

Saturday night was the time Takashi deemed perfect to do their rematch. Perfect timing too, since Saturdays were usually reserved for open mic in the dining hall or a bonfire by the lake, leaving the gym completely open for them. Since it was Fourth of July, Keith knew mostly everyone would be at the lake for the bonfire, kinda dumb given recent times and the ironic context of the holiday, but it also played into their advantage, so she spared a bit of gratitude. Keith also still had her key Coran lend her for the mornings she’d need to set up, so gaining entry was pretty easy.

Keith turned on enough lights to shine some brightness at the center of the mat and the lower bleachers. Takashi waited for her in the center of the mat in a white tank top and black leggings.

Her lips curved upwards as Keith entered the mat, pulling at her gloves. “How about we make things interesting?”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

“A question for a tap.”

Keith thought it over, then nodded, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

Their swords met with a clang, metal pressing to metal. Takashi darted a step back, then surged forward. Keith ducked the hit by ducking underneath her sword and struck her at the chest.

_Strike._

Keith asked the question that’s been on her mind since that unexpected second meeting. “Did you know it was me when we first met? At the bonfire?”

“No,” Takashi answered without pause.

Keith didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that word until now, feeling something loosen in her chest. She was happy to know she didn’t make a complete idiot of herself. “Then what exactly-”

Takashi knocked away her sword and stuck the tip against Keith’s throat before she could blink. “Why do you hate me?”

Her brief lapse of relief boiled to irritation. “Next question.”

“Red-”

“Champ,” Keith said. “Next question.”

A scowl pulled at Takashi’s face. “Fine, then. How about this one. Why did you stop competing?”

“Fuck off.”

“Should we go back to the original question?”

Growling, Keith charged at her- and just like before, just like always, Takashi was a step ahead of her. She met Keith’s furious storm of thrusts, trading blow for blow, ducking from her attacks, tossing in hard strikes that made Keith stumble and her hands strain from bracing against the hits.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Takashi yelled.

“Piss off!”

Takashi shoved her away and Keith dug deep into her heels to keep from toppling over as she was bounced back. “Are those the only two words you know?”

“How about fuck off!”

Takashi levelled her with a frosted look. “Tell me, did your mother teach you how to speak so eloquently? Or your father?”

Keith was so struck dumb by the comment that it took a moment for the words to hit. Once they landed their hard, breath-stealing blow, anger sparked inside her, fierce and wild, casting her vision and mind into vivid red.

With a snarl, she charged at Takashi, anger fueling every swing, fury quickening her steps. It was a like a demon had taken over her mind, narrowing every thought and need with the sole purpose of crushing this little brat, making her eat her words, finally fucking winning.

“You wanna know why I hate you?” Keith roared over the clashing ting and bang of their swords. “Because you’re pretty much like everyone else who’s ever met me. A snot-nosed bitch who thinks I’m a bug you scraped off your shoe. You made it clear from day one.”

“I never-”

“You made it clear that I wasn’t competition for you. That I could never be competition for you since you’re that fucking good.” Keith swung her sword so hard at Takashi’s, it was nearly bending back.

“What are you-”

“And then you had the balls to shoot me that stupid fucking smile every time you accepted that trophy to make clear I can never get to your level. Because me losing gave you such joy.”

“That’s not true!”

“Bullshit!” Keith roared, tossing her sword aside and then shoving her back. Hard. “The goddam golden girl. The goddamn, always-winning Champ. Everything comes so easily for you.”

Takashi clamped both hands on her forearms and stuck them to her sides. Keith tried to fight her, but her grip tightened.

“If you think my life has been sunshine and rainbows, Red,” she sneered. “then you’re really not as clever as you think you are.”

“Fuck you!” Keith’s arms may be pinned, but her legs were thankfully free. She curved her left leg up, drew it back, and swung it against Takashi’s kneecap.

She crumpled to the floor with a grunt. Keith used the moment to break free and climbed on top of her before Takashi had time to recover, pinning wrists by the sides of her head, using her thighs to clamp her torso. Takashi tried pushing Keith off, but Keith had anger on her side, giving her extra strength.

After minutes of struggle, Takashi admitted defeat with a sigh, body going pliant, and looked up at Keith. “Happy now?”

No. That was the thing. Keith wasn’t happy. She was far from happy. She was still pissed. She was confused. She felt unsatisfied, lacking for a better word, as if there was an itch nipping at her skin that she couldn’t scratch. An ache that couldn’t be easily mended.

Takashi’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Keith?”

It dawned on her that this was the first time she actually heard Takashi say her name.

What a good question she asked. On surface level, easy answers came to her mind. Enough money to take care of her college tuition and help Kolivan with his own medical bills. On a personal level, she wanted her dad. Right now, at this moment, with Takashi underneath, seemingly at her mercy yet somehow trapping Keith with those steely gray eyes?

Keith slammed her lips against hers.

_Oh_ ….the word was like a bubble, warm and soft, slowly taking Keith higher and higher. Oh, she thought as she felt Taksashi’s hesitation against her lips before it quickly melted into eagerness. Oh, Takashi’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Oh, as their tongues slowly gilded against each other, sparks dripping from the touch.

_Oh. Oh. Oh._

Takashi sat up while keeping her arms around her, their lips still locked. Keith wrapped her legs around her torso and pulled away from Takashi to rip off Takashi’s tank top, delighted at the black sports bra. Keith showed her delight through a series of eager kisses, each more desperate than the last, sucking and nipping at her bottom lip.

She felt a hand pulling at her hair tie, tugging it down until black hair was set free, hanging loosely around her face. Right before she felt eager hands tug at her own shirt.

Biting down her lip, Keith lifted her arms over her head and allowed Takashi to pull off her shirt, leaving her in her own sports bra.

“Fuck,” Takashi breathed as she cupped Keith’s boobs, finger brushing against her sensitive nipples, causing Keith to jump with a moan.

More moans, whines, and sighs fell from her mouth as Takashi dove into her chest, kissing whatever bare skin was offered to her, driving her to the brink of madness with the way her fingers played with her clothed nipples, rolling and flickering.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Keith grabbed a handful of black and silver hair and tugged, satisfaction rolling through her belly at the whine Takashi made, muffled against her skin. Tugging her hair again, Keith rolled her hips against her, increasing her pace the second she felt Takashi’s fervent response, rolling her hips against Keith’s so fast that warmth was stirring between them, growing fast like a fire. “Fuck!”

“I think I heard someone in here.”

They pulled back to stare at each other in wide-eyed shock.

“I definitely think someone’s here.” Footsteps were approaching fast.

In an instant, the two untangled from each other and were up on their feet, grabbing their discarded shirts, racing over to the back of the bleachers just as the gym doors burst opened.

“Why the hell?” A girl asked, annoyance and exhaustion mixed in her voice. “Would someone come here when there’s a party by the lake?”

“The same reason why we keep busting campers and counselors in out houses and what not,” a guy answered back, his voice light with amusement. “Gym’s all empty, so it would be a good idea.”

A blaze of heat flashed through Keith, stinging her cheeks.

“Whatever. Let’s just go. Clearly there’s nothing here- and unlike some people, some actually have the patience to wait until they go to their rooms.”

Sadly for all their necks, the guy wasn’t so easily swayed. His lightbeam was coming closer and closer to them, close to Keith’s feet.

Oh God. If they were found out, if Iverson found out, there would be no debating or wiggling her way out of this way one. No way to explain the compromising position they were in. She would be done. Finished.

“Connor!”

His light beam was only an inch away from the toe of her sneakers, its faint light shining on her shoelaces. It stilled before it finally retreated.

“Alright, alright. Fine.” Connor groaned. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

A sharp gasp bounced through the walls, and then-“See if you get any, you jerk!”

Hefty footsteps stomped over to the doors, opening with a loud bang as the double doors slammed against the walls.

“Cindy, wait! I take it back!”

They waited for a moment, then two, then longer. It felt like minutes had passed by before they pulled away. Keith attempted to slip back on her shirt while ignoring the loud thundering of her heart pounding too hard in her chest.

“Things haven’t been easy for me.”

She spared a look over her shoulder at Takashi, who was already dressed and looking normal again.

“Not then and not now.”

Before Keith could do anything else, Takashi walked away, leaving her alone in the semi-darkness. For the first time, though, Keith didn’t feel anger or irritation bubbling inside her chest as she watched her go. She felt hollow and heavy all at once.

**~.....~**

The July 4th weekend passed by in a blue of strained tension in their cabin that was no longer tight as an arrow, but at the same time far from comfortable. Takashi continued to do her own thing, sticking to her side of the room. Keith tried to continue on with her routine, practicing her stretches, scrolling through her phone or messaging her friends, or doodling in her notebook. Yet somehow, no matter how loud she played her music, her mind went back to what happened in the gym on Saturday.

The two of them tangled together, limbs and lips and all in their warm cocoon. Nearly getting caught. Takashi’s parting words.

Later on at night, as a heavy thunderstorm tore through the outside, Keith fell into a dark, troubled sleep. She felt that like she was wandering through a dark maze that grew more twisted, more complex with each turn she made. Overhead, she heard a sound, so faint like she was underneath water. Like whimpering, sobbing. The more she ran, the more the sobbing grew louder.

With a jolt, Keith sat on her bed. Outside her window, the woods were a blur of dark ink from the heavy sheets of rain, lightning cracking against the sky like whips. Inside she was free of the dream, but the sobbing still followed her.

And it was coming right from Takashi. Her back was to Keith, body curved into a ball that shook with each whimper and hiccup she tried and failed to suppress.

“Takashi?”

A slow shudder ran through her body as another sob burst from her mouth.

“Shiro.”

A broken, harsh sob was her only answer. Anyone else would have left her alone, let her have her moment of misery and question it in the morning. An image popped into Keith’s head, an image of Takashi Shirogane when they first met, a little girl surrounded by a crowd of grown-ups talking over her as if she wasn’t sitting right there, looking so small with her knees drawn up to her chin like she was trying to disappear from sight. Keith thought of those horrible long, unbearable months after Pop died and how, even though she was so sick of the constant “ _I’m sorry_ ,” and pitying looks, she really wished someone had reached out to her. Even if it was just to sit beside her as she tried to fight off the sobs rattling inside her chest.

Keith pushed the blankets aside and crossed over to the other side. She hovered by the bed, hands twitching at her sides, unsure what exactly to do. Just because she knew the girl needed comfort didn’t mean she was the greatest at knowing how to provide it.

“Shiro?” Slowly Keith’s hand went over to Takashi’s arm that was sprawled across the bed, finger clutching onto her bedsheets. The second her fingertips touched Takashi’s shoulder, the girl’s hand caught her wrist in a near death grip.

Takashi’s eyes shot open, glazed over in pain, tears leaking in thick streaks. Her grip on Keith’s wrist tightened to the point of bone-crushing, but Keith didn’t flinch, focused on the way those eyes looked at her without really seeing her. Like she was still trapped in whatever nightmare was playing out in her mind.

“Shiro?” Keith used her other hand to cup her cheek, gently wiping away the tears.

That seemed to be the trick. One blink, and confusion slowly chipped away at the fear in Takashi’s gray eyes. One blink, and confusion turned to clarification. One blink, and Takashi’s bottom lip quivered and she bit down so hard on it, Keith was sure blood would be drawn. One blink, and she looked up at Keith like she somehow had all the answers.

Keith swallowed and opened her mouth. To say what exactly, she wasn’t sure. What came out of her mouth though was a small grunt as Takashi threw herself into Keith, falling face first against her chest, wrapping her arms around her so tight that the next sound that came out of her mouth was a wheeze.

By the time Keith finally grasped what was happening, needing to blink innumerable times to shake off her shock, her nightshirt was wet from tears.

One of Keith’s hands landed on Takashi’s back, patting it gently. The other hand rested on the back of her head, combing her fingers through smooth silver and black hair.

“I got you,” Keith said. Because as a camp counselor, much as she might suck at it, it was her job to provide comfort to a camper who was hurting. Because _“I’m fine,”_ was such a bullshit sentiment that made her blood boil every time she heard it. Because “ _It’s Okay, It will be okay_ ,” were much worse and it was the same thing Keith had heard over and over again from various doctors, friends, and Pop’s co-workers until the very end. Because in that moment, she understood Takashi perfectly.

Keith didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She just remembered holding Takashi and stroking her hair, even as her wrist ached. She remembered Takashi’s grip never faltering, even after her tears finally dried up. She remembered lying her chin on top of Takashi’s soft hair and closing her eyes for only a minute. But somehow, the next thing she knew, when Keith opened her eyes again, bright sunlight beamed directly into her face, nearly blinding her.

Hissing like a vengeful cat, Keith covered her face with her hands and turned away from the window. She never understood how the most horrible storms produced the most blinding mornings. She rolled over to her other side and shifted closer to the body pillow next to her that felt so nice, so warm, nuzzling her face against it, breathing in the scent of apples and cinnamon.

Her eyes popped open as she felt her pillow shift.

Heart pounding, Keith’s eyes roamed over the arm pillowed underneath the bed head, up to the shoulder that her face was previously pressed against, and finally to a familiar face that was wide awake and watching her. Having those eyes fixed on her, Keith nearly jumped, but Takashi’s free arm hooked around her torso, keeping her in place.

“Hi,” Keith mumbled.

“Hi,” Takashi mumbled back.

“Um,” Keith said. “You can let go now.”

Confusion pulled at Takashi’s mouth, so Keith nudged towards the arm that was wrapped around her, causing bright pink to fill Takashi’s cheeks as she quickly untangled her arms from Keith .

“You know,” Keith couldn’t stop the smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “bright pink is starting to become your color.”

Takashi’s hands flew to her face, but not before bright pink spread to the rest of her face, triggering a burst of giggles from Keith’s mouth.

Apparently, they didn’t just fall into Takashi’s bed, but Keith somehow ended by the wall while Takashi was closer to the outside, which caused some awkward shuffling as she climbed over Takashi and sat down on the edge. Keith worked through the knots in her body, starting with her neck, then her back, and was about to get off until a tug at her hand pulled her back down.

Baffled, she turned over to Takashi, her tongue peeking through pursed lips as she stared down at their joint hands.

“Thanks.” That tiny tongue ran over Takashi’s bottom lip. “For what you did last night.”

Takashi’s shoulders tensed and her lips pulled in a thin-lined frown, bracing herself for the inevitable question that was bound to launch after the night she had. Keith felt the question hanging right off her tongue, but she remembered how she hated being asked questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

Instead, what came out of Keith’s mouth was, “I’m sorry.” At Takashi’s confused look, she clarified, “For the other night. At the gym.” A heartbeat later. “And….everything else that happened before then.”

She thought that was what Takashi wanted to hear, that it would make her relax, but if anything, the words seemed to backfire, adding more tension to Takashi’s already stiff body, her rigid shoulders hunching higher.

“When you say you’re sorry for the other night...” Slowly Takashi sat up straight and lifted her head, the vulnerable look in those gray eyes reminding Keith of a baby bird, causing Keith’s heart to skip several beats. “Do you mean everything that happened that night? Like...everything everything?”

Memories of heated kisses and desperate hands flashed through her mind, making warmth flare through her body, burning her cheeks, as if she could still feel Takashi’s hands on her. “Well...I…” Keith crossed and uncrossed her legs, squirming from the bolt of heat that sparked between her thighs. She tried swallowing. “Not-not exactly everything-”

It was at that exact moment her stomach decided to wake up and have its presence be known, letting out a loud, vicious growl that drowned out the rest of her words.

Takashi looked down at her stomach, then up at her, startled. Keith tried flashing a weak smile, but it felt more like a grimace on her lips.

“I’ll take that as a cue to get some breakfast.” Her voice trailed off as she glanced over at Takashi’s alarm clock, the alarm clock reading 11:04. Which meant the dining hall was closed for breakfast and wouldn’t reopen again until noon for lunch.

Sucked balls, but it was just an hour. She could wait-or so she thought, before her stomach went off again, letting out such a drawn-out growl that it could have been five separate ones.

Keith shot another weak smile. Takashi bit down on her lip, a giggle pulling through her sealed mouth.

“Guess I’m hungrier than I thought.” Keith shrugged. A second later, her stomach rumbled like a mini earthquake, shaking up her insides, reminding her of its emptiness. She glared at her stomach. “Quiet you.”

“Do you happen to like Oreos?” Takashi sat up, her black night-shirt riding above her stomach.

“Oreos?” Keith parroted. “Yeah, I suppose.”

A bright grin spilt Takashi’s lips, nearly rivaling the glow of the sun. She hopped off her bed and crouched besides it, pulling out a large purple box.

“But you don’t really have to….” Keith’s voice trailed off as Takashi pulled out not one, not five, not even ten but twenty family-size packs of different Oreos, spreading them out on the floor, more than half already opened while the others were still sealed.

There were the classic Oreos, several of the double-stuffed, two packs of the reserved vanilla cookie and chocolate cream. One with chocolate cream, four dark chocolate ones, one birthday-flavored. Lemon-flavored, carrot-cake flavored, cinnamon-bun flavored, and loads of red velvet ones.

“The regular ones are my go-to. Can’t go wrong with a classic, right? Although lately I’ve been addicted to the dark chocolate ones, which are surprisingly better than regular chocolate. But red velvet are my top…” Realizing that she was speaking to a silent audience, Takashi pulled back with her box, tugging out another one of the red velvet Oreos. She smiled sheepishly at Keith, saying with a shrug, “What can I say? I love Oreos.”

From where Keith was seated on her bed, she had a good view of the two dozen more packs that were still inside the container. “I can see that.”

“It’s sort of my vice.”

“I can see that too.”

Takashi burst into laughter, and the sound drew a smile out of Keith.

“How the hell do you eat all this?” She pointed at the packs and packs of cookies. “And somehow have all that?” She gestured towards Takashi’s toned body.

Takashi shrugged again. “You know, Pidge asked me the same thing too. Her conclusion: me being a total health nut helps balance out all my vices.”

Keith wondered how many vices she had and was almost scared of the answer. Takashi’s friend seemed to have a solid theory though, considering the amount of push-ups, sit-ups, and other exercises the girl does on a daily basis. “Pidge?”

“You remember her?” At the blank look on Keith’s face, Takashi rolled her eyes. “The one you cussed out last class.”

A tiny girl with dark honey-blonde hair and round glasses popped into Keith’s face, the smile she wore when she was trying to humiliate Coran that was wiped clean the second Keith went at her. “Ah, her. Ms. Firecracker. Hey, wait. I didn’t cuss her out.”

“One, yes, you did,” Takashi said. “Two, that’s rich coming from the legendary spitfire Red. Pot calling the kettle black.”

“Oh bite me.”

“There it is,” Takashi grinned.

It was a self-reminder to Keith that she was the older one, she was supposed to be the mature one, the camp counselor who didn’t need to add anymore weight to the thin ice she was on that saved Takashi a solid whack on the head by her own pillow. She reserved that energy for rolling her eyes and joining Takashi on the ground.

Their backs pressed against the side of the bed, Takashi passed her two samples of nearly every cookie flavor she had. Some weren’t too bad, like the cinnamon roll and mint flavored ones. Keith passed back the carrot cake ones as soon as they were in her hand. If she wasn’t a fan of the actual cake, she doubted she’d like the cookie flavor of it. Same with the lemon ones she passed back without a second glance. Some, like the dark chocolate and red velvet ones, actually were pretty good, making Keith seek out more. Cookies weren’t exactly a whole meal, but they were doing their job, silencing her stomach.

“So,” Takashi began. Keith glanced over at her, but Takashi wasn’t meeting her eyes, keeping them focused on her half-eaten cookie. “I didn’t do anything, right?”

Keith’s brows furrowed. “If you mean crying, don’t worry about it.”

“No!” Keith flinched at the harsh snap of her voice, looking just as startled as Takashi was by the sound. “I mean…” Takashi bit down on her lip. “Did I hurt you?”

Keith’s furrowed brows nearly shot up to her hairline. “What do you mean?”

“Only that…” Takashi rolled the cookie over and over in her hand, struggling to find the right words. “After the accident...especially during a storm, I tend to be restless. Violent if my dreams get really bad. Lashing out sometimes in my sleep.”

There were too many factors that Keith’s brain was struggling to piece together. Takashi being so deep in nightmares and memory, she’d swing at the nearest bystander. That she and rain apparently didn’t see eye to eye, with the rain being a trigger to those nightmares. Yet the main thing her brain couldn’t let go of was, “Accident?”

Now it was Takashi’s turn to be shocked, eyes widening. “You didn’t hear?”

“I already don’t keep up with the news as it is. For the sake of my sanity.” Especially in regards to the raging Cheeto who resided in the White House. If Keith needed to know what was going on, she turned to Kolivan who preferred getting the news through the newspaper, Google for weather and any articles that might catch her eyes, or Lance who was connected to every media outlet there was. “And after the last match, I didn’t want anything to do with fencing anymore.”

Shock hit Takashi’s face before it fell. Last week, Keith might have gotten pleasure from knocking the Champ down a peg. Today, though, she didn’t feel satisfied or anything close to close. In fact, she felt the very opposite, like a heavy rock was sitting in her stomach.

“Not because of you,” Keith quickly added, feeling that rock grow heavier.

“But I’m the main reason why.” The oreo got crushed in her hand and she dumped the crumbs in the tiny trash can. She then drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them, head resting on her lap.

The image of a young Takashi, that little girl in a bright white suit, curved into a ball on the bench while her team spoke over her popped into Keith’s mind. Her face looked anxious now as it did back then.

It was that image, that memory of the confident Champion stripped down to a vulnerable girl, that made the following words spill from Keith’s mouth.

“It was because of my dad.”

Takashi’s eyes snapped back to her. Keith’s heart thundered in her chest as she swallowed, licking her lips nervously.

“When I was about twelve, my dad got sick. Real sick. Turns out, there were huge lumps of cancer in his brain. He did chemo, even though his job barely paid enough to cover the bills. He tried every medicine, procedure, you name it the doctors said would work. Around the time of our last competition, he entered stage four. They said- they said…” Keith blinked her eyes furiously until the tears retreated, until the lump in her throat eased just a bit. “They promised he’d have at least a year. He didn’t make it six months.”

Keith didn’t dare look at Takashi, even as she felt her hitched breath besides her. She didn’t turn even with those eyes looking so intently at her. Because if she did, then she knew those tears would spill. She knew the grief would grab her by the throat, squeezing the light out of her while she tried to fight off the sobs that were sure to follow. Because one look at those eyes would make her lose it.

“Never knew my mom. She took off soon after I came along. I guess parenthood was too much for her.” Keith tried to shrug. “A lot of people thought my dad would crack, especially when it was clear which parent I took after. Especially when I wasn’t the easiest kid to have around. But he never made me feel anything less than special. Loved. From day one, he’d been my biggest cheerleader. He encouraged me to fight when I was little and needed an outlet for my anger. He made me my first sword when I said I wanted to be just like Mulan. He even helped me pick up the name Red when I decided to go into fencing. Then he died…” The stinging in her eyes was unbearable as Keith swallowed down another hard lump, but she blinked to keep those tears in. “And I just...I just couldn't do it anymore. It was something we shared.”

Grief snaked inside her, clasped around her neck. Keith tried to breathe through the heavy weight.

“Keith, I-”

“Yeah,” she said. “So that’s that. I didn’t touch a sword again until I got to college and saw that they had a fencing team that offered a generous scholarship, which was too good to pass up. It took awhile to get back into since it’d been years. Not to mention, I’ve never really been a team person, but it…” Keith tried to find the right words to describe the feeling that churned in her body when she felt that familiar weight in her head, pulled the mask on. A feeling that wasn’t quite a rush, much more gradual, but exhilarating just the same. “It felt right.”

“I think I can understand it,” Takashi said quietly.

Keith figured she would. Reluctant as she was to admit it, Takashi definitely still had her fighting spirit.

“As it turned out, my college coach Coran needed an assistant to help him out during the summer at this camp I used to go to. Wasn’t sure at first since I have no patience, as you probably could tell. But again, the pay was good and I really wasn’t up for bagging groceries or taking coffee orders, so I accepted. And here we are, two years later.”

Silence hung between them, so long, so heavy. Each minute that rolled by made the itch in her skin burn hotter. Keith wanted to break the silence, but wasn’t sure how to do it. What could she say? She was still trying to recover from unloading everything she just said, grief refusing to budge no matter how many deep breaths she took.

“I’m sorry.” Takashi said, because honestly what else could someone say. It was another phrase Keith hated as much as, sometimes more than depending on the day and her mood, as the words _I’m Fine, It Will be Okay_. The funny thing was, until most times when people offered her those words, sounding hesitant or toneless, Takashi actually sounded sincere, which Keith couldn’t tell if she should be grateful for it or uneasy.

Keith shrugged.

“Do you….do you remember Lotor? Lotor Zarkon?”

Keith closed her eyes and thought back hard on the various names and people she passed by, fought with, and knew from her days of competing, trying to put a name to that face. Finally her mind conjured the image of a light-brown skinned boy with long white hair tied in a ponytail, lips pulled in a smug smirk. “Yup, I definitely remember that assclown.”

“Well long story short, he was the one top tier competitor of the youth male division while I was rising up in the female ranks. Everyone kept wondering when we’d finally compete against each other, but it didn’t happen since the community wasn't too big on merging the divisions. They didn’t think it’d be a fair fight. There was also the matter of my age.” Takashi offered a weak shrug. “Apparently fighting female opponents is a lot different than fighting males.”

If there was one thing Keith didn’t miss about competing, it was the sexism that went on. It never ceases to amaze her how most times female athletes from all different sports, football, swimming, tennis, you named it, could outdo the men, had twice as much talent and yet got twice as much criticism.

“Zarkon’s father was very much against it. Unfortunately for him, others didn’t see it that way. Some thought it would be a good opportunity, a great way to display skill. I think I was about fifteen when the decision was made and they set a date for the match.” Takashi sighed. “Weeks up into the tournament, Zarkon and his goons tried to give me some encouragement.”

Keith’s stomach twisted from the way she said the word, “encouragement,” wrapped in dark implications.

As it turned out she was right. Licking her lips again, Takashi said, “At first, it wasn’t too bad. He would catch me after practices with a bouquet of flowers or a blank check, telling me I could add as many zeros as I wanted if I dropped out.”

Keith had a feeling, deep in her gut, that she wouldn’t like where this was going.

“Then pretty soon his men showed up at my mom’s flower shop. Sometimes they’d buy out the whole store, saying stuff like how such a shop’s irreplaceable. How nice it would be for her daughter to be working at the shop instead of spending time with her silly sword. Other times, they would just come in and walk around, not buying anything but looking at everything like...like they were planning something. Something bad, my mom said. Last time Zarkon’s mom paid her a visit, one of the them said to her face how much of a shame it would be if the shop went up in flames.”

Okay, now Keith was sure she really didn’t like where this was going.

“She called me afterwards in complete hysterics, screaming that strange men were harassing her, that they were going to start a fire. It took me forever to calm her down. But she kept begging me to drop out of the champion, that maybe it was time for me to retire. I just-I just couldn’t. It felt like if I backed out, Zarkon would win and Lotor would think I was really scared of him. My coach backed me up on this one, saying how badly my reputation would suffer if I dropped out. I wished I had.”

_Oh fuck…._

“Before long, I started getting threats myself. Notes left on my locker. In my bag. Sometimes even sewn inside my suit, which was just-” Takashi broke off in a shudder, and Keith’s stomach churned at the thought. “Eventually, those notes turned into calls, at both our apartment and the flower shop. It had gotten to the point where my mom was so scared to pick up the phone.”

“What did your coach say?”

“She told me just to focus on the match. That I shouldn’t let Zarkon get to me. It was hard though. The calls started getting more frantic, more violent. There was a point I felt someone watching me the whole day at the gym and I was scared.” Takashi swallowed again. “Then the car accident happened.”

Keith’s stomach dropped, along with her heart and her lungs, falling to the heels of her shoes.

“We were in the car, my grandfather and I. He took me out to this movie theater a few towns away from our house because they were showing my favorite Star Wars movie on the big screen. Kinda dumb I know since I already had the DVDs, but he knew how much it meant to me. On the way back, it was raining so hard, it was like his car was swimming through water. Next thing I know...” Takashi liked her lips. “This huge black truck was zooming down the road, heading straight for us.”

The rest of the words that fell from her mouth were flat, listless, as if she wasn’t talking about herself but someone else. Like a character from a book or a friend to a friend's friend.

She spoke of how her world became a blur of glass and blood before everything went black. Waking up in an ambulance, mind fading in and out, body screaming in pain. Her grandfather being put on life support for nearly a year, eventually waking up but losing control of the entire left side of his body. Losing her left arm and gaining a thick scar that rested above her nose, stretching from cheek to cheek. The months of both physical and psychological therapy she went under, trying to get used to being one-armed, then more months going through dozens of prosthetic models for a new arm. The dark, deep depression she fell under that threatened to push her under the brink of no return. Despite the heavy evidence delivered by her mother, her coach, the family lawyer that was presented to the court, Zarkon was found innocent of all charges of harassment, reckless endangerment, and attempted murder. In the end though, as a show of good faith and generosity, Zarkon gave her a “generous” amount of money that he deemed as a consolation prize for her pain.

“ _Motherfucker!_ ” Keith snarled.

“Yeah,” Takashi mumbled. “I wanted to shove that check into his mouth and watch him choke. Sometimes I still do. But I knew how much we needed the money. Mom’s shop was never the same after the last visit. With both me and my grandfather in the hospital, needing therapy and multiple surgeries, medical bills were eating us alive.”

“You did what you had to do,” Keith insisted.

“I know,” Takashi mumbled, staring down at her shoes. “But somehow it felt like they won, Zarkon and Lotor. They beat me and I didn’t even get to fight.”

Anger bloomed inside Keith’s chest. “As I said before and still stand by. Motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” she said, the word sounding so flat. “After that...I just couldn’t anymore.”

Keith’s anger morphed into something dark and sharp, carving a space in her chest. Even when she was pissed at Takashi, even when she was sure she’d choke from the sheer amount of hatred she had for her, she’d never in her wildest dreams or most vindictive moods wish that on anyone.

“I don’t suppose,” Keith plucked the words out, trying to sound casual. “You happen to know where they live now, right?”

“I think New Zealand last time I checked- _wait a minute!_ ” Takashi’s head whipped over to her. “Why?”

Shrugging, Keith reached over for the dark chocolate pack of Oreos, pulled out one, and licked off some of the extra cream peeking out, aware of Takashi’s gaze on her. “In case I decided to send a gift to the ass-hats.”

Earlier puzzlement gave way to shock, bits of fear piercing through.

“Like a bomb. Of a little night out with my bat and their asses. Or maybe-”

“Keith! No!” Takashi gripped her hand, as if the cookie in her hand was the spiked baseball bat she wanted to bash into their faces over and over again.

“He deserves it and you know it!”

Takashi looked so shocked like she wanted to protest, but the glare Keith gave her warned her to hold that sentiment in. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she slumped against the side of her bed.

After inhaling half a sleeve of red velvet Oreos, Takashi said, “Well…I won’t lie. I was crushed, really crushed, but I did hear later on that Lotor got disqualified and banned since he was caught pumping steroids in the locker room. Since he was found with a huge amount and a needle still in his arm, even his dad couldn’t talk his way out of that one.”

A laugh burst from Keith’s mouth at the thought. Takashi joined along with her.

“Lucky for me, that scandal outweighed mine, so it was a relief to have the spotlight off me.”

Apparently the spotlight was so intense, Zarkon and Lotor relocated to New Zealand , rumored for the sake of being reunited with Zarkon’s estranged wife but really for Lotor to be put into rehab for drug abuse. Meanwhile Takashi’s former coach approached her in talks of returning to the sport, figuring the timing was perfect. Only Takashi wasn’t interested.

“My mom and grandfather were my biggest fans, the ones that meant the most to me. After the accident, Grandfather’s focus had to be on recovering. My mom’s anxiety worsened to the point that she needed medicine. And….”

“And….?” Keith gently probed.

There it was again, that anxious, vulnerable look that cut something deep inside Keith’s chest like a slow drag of a knife.

“You weren’t there.” Takashi finally admitted.

Keith stared at her for a minute, blinking rapidly. At the third blink, she was still processing what she heard. At the sixth blink, she felt the corners of her lips lifting up. At the tenth, uncontrollable giggles sprouted from her mouth.

“Keith?” Concern colored Takashi’s tone.

She tried to speak, but each time she did, more giggles spilled from her. She took in slow breaths to get herself to stop, holding it in tight, until she was sure that laughter died down. Heaving a sigh, Keith shrugged with one shoulder. “Well I suppose there is a comfort in having your favorite punching bag with you.”

She expected Takashi to laugh along with her. What she didn’t expect was a frown, which confused her.

“What?”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” Takashi asked.

“Saying what?”

“Things that make it seem like I hate you.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to frown. “Because you did.”

“No,” Takashi shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.” Takashi was looking and speaking to her like she was a child.

Annoyance bit along the sides of her chest, and Keith tried to ignore the bite and focus on the now, not wanting to ruin the good moment. “Shiro, come on-”

“I never hated you!” The finality of the girl’s voice nearly made Keith jump. But that was a preview to the next set of words that shocked her. “I wanted to be your friend.”

“ _Pardon!_ ”

She bit down at that bottom lip, not helping with the tornado of emotions tearing through her. “When I first came to America, I barely spoke any English and could only understand a handful of words. When I first came to the fencing arena, I stepped away from my team because I wanted to get something from the vending machine. These group of boys blocked my path and were trying to scare me. I may not have understood exactly what they were saying, but I know bullying when it’s happening. I was so scared. It was like every corner I turned, a boy was there, sneering or smirking. Eventually one of them grabbed my hair so hard, I was crying. That only made them laugh harder. All of the sudden, you came out of nowhere and punched him in the nose. Said you’d do that again to him and his friends too if you caught them bothering me again.”

That...that….definitely sounded a lot like her. Keith may have preferred being by herself, but if there was one thing she hated, it was bullying, experiencing it firsthand herself and unable to standby l if she sees it near her. Issue was recalling the moment. She tried thinking back to that afternoon.

She remembered….she remembered….

“After you scared them off, you got me a chocolate bar from the vending machine and a water bottle, then took me over to my mom.”

Suddenly, Keith was seeing that scene. Her at ten years old, knocking good fear into assholes trying to gang up on a kid. A tiny girl with shiny black hair hiding her face with her hands, taking them down when she was sure they were alone.

“And judging by the look on your face, you don’t seem to remember.” Takashi didn’t even sound hurt or annoyed. She was apologetic, almost sad, which made Keith feel worse.

“Bad memory,” she mumbled weakly, wanting to kick herself as soon as the words came out.

“It’s okay.”

Keith shook her head, confusion whirling through her head, churning her stomach, No, no it wasn’t.

“After that, I wanted to thank you. More than anything else, I wanted to be your friend.”

Keith’s mind was like a broken record player, stuck on a particular rough note, the word “But...but...but,” screeching through her head. But that didn’t make sense. But that couldn’t be. Takashi, long as she knew her, had mostly been a little shit.

Keith’s mind replayed every interaction the two shared over the years. Every look, every smile Takashi shot her. Every post-it note stamped onto her locker, her bag, those taunting words sprawled in Sharpie. The girl who always seemed delighted, determined even, in pushing every single nerve in her body until she bust. Now, though, it was like an editing pen had gone through her memories, shedding light on images that weren’t exactly clear, expanding the scenes that were half minute and now a full minute. The smiles Keith originally saw as taunting were actually shy and soft. The post-it notes words of encouragement instead of mocking.

Clarification started to string itself together like a set of beads to a string.

“I liked you.”

Keith did what any person in every romantic comedy would do in that moment a huge misunderstanding was laid out in front of them. She used both hands to cover her face, shaking her head over and over again, shame and confusion and shock swelling inside her like balloons, wanting the earth to just open up and swallow her up already.

“I am so fucking stupid.”

“Keith-”

She smacked her hands against her forehead with each word. “I.” _Smack_. “Am.” _Smack_. “So.” _Smack_. “Stupid.”

“Keith, stop! Stop! Hey, stop!” Takashi grabbed her wrists and forced them down. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that I’m such an idiot.” God, even talking about it made her want to bash her head in. “I thought-all this time-I thought you were a spoiled, rotten….Oh my god.” She groaned. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not.” Takashi insisted.

“Yes, I am,” Keith replied. “If I hadn’t been so hung up on what I thought had happened, we could have been doing so much more. Like not be here.” She waved a hand around the cabin. “Or...or….continue on with….with….with that happened on the beach. Or the gym.”

Dusty pink colored Takashi’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded.

Dusty pink darkened to red as Shiro bit her lip and looked up at her. “So you liked it?”

Again, it shouldn’t be fair for someone to be that cute. “I definitely liked it.”

“We could-” There she went again, biting that lip, making it hard for Keith to keep her thought straight “We could...possibly continue where we left off. If you want.”

Keith reached and tucked loose strands of black and silver behind her ear.

“I’m seventeen.” Takashi said, needing to restate the small but unavoidable fact.

Keith’s hand drifted up from her ear, toying with earrings and drifting down to her cheek. Takashi’s breath hitched as Keith’s fingers brushed against her mouth. “I know and I’m twenty. But it’s your call, Shiro. Your choice.”

Takashi- _Shiro_ looked so dumbfounded by her own name that Keith couldn’t fight off the smile curling her mouth.

“Always your choice. At your own pace.” Keith promised.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Takashi’s lips covered hers, and Keith didn’t fight the warmth that sizzled through her veins, muting her senses. Focusing only on Takashi’s warm lips, the steady weight of her arms as Keith was being lowered to the floor-

“Ow!” She cried.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, not you. It’s-” Keith reached behind the uncomfortable pillow and saw it was a rumpled pack of Oreos. “Butter popcorn flavor? Seriously?”

“There was a sale.” Shiro smiled sheepishly.

“Clearly for a reason.”

“I’ll have you know that it tastes good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Shut up!” Shiro demanded, even though she was laughing herself.

Keith was ready to shoot another comment, but then Shiro grabbed her face, pressed their lips together, and Keith decided to put her mouth to other good uses.


	4. Gaining a Grand Prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting the final final chapter for my story for the Femsheith Exchange. Thanks so much to Robin, Sharki, and Sarah for putting the event together and being so generous with me. 
> 
> Special thanks to sharki for being an awesome beta reader.
> 
> Engraved10, I really hope you enjoyed your gift.

Next Monday morning, bright and early, Keith was called to Iverson’s office, an hour before the insufferable horn blast went off. She was trying to blink away sleep during her shower, her teeth-brushing, and clothes-changing. Meanwhile Takashi was already up, shooting Keith a quick smile as she worked through fifty of her one hundred push-ups, not missing a beat.

How the hell did Takashi find the strength to willingly get up early and do workouts when Keith struggled to wash her hair with one hand while holding onto the shower wall to keep from falling on the floor, she’d never know.

 _No, not Takashi_ , Keith corrected with a firm shake of her head. Shiro. She was Shiro.

A soft smile rolled across Keith’s lips. Now she felt like Draco in all the drarry fanfics she read, dazed and flustered at finally being granted the right to say Harry’s name after years of referring to him as Potter. It was weird. She found herself correcting herself more than once, too used to the habit. She also found herself smiling like such a dork when she said Shiro’s name, sounding out the word in her head, rolling it between her tongue.

She was struggling to keep that smile and all the rest of the gooey mush inside her, locked and sealed, as she entered Iverson’s office. She made sure her expression was of total nonchalance as she entered Iverson’s office, those steely eyes narrowing at her, examining her from head to toe before he waved a hand at the chair in front of his desk.

Keith was no stranger to dark glares anymore than she was to being seated in front of a heated authoritarian figure. In fact, it happened so often, it was almost odd for a month to go by and she hadn’t been called into so-and-so’s office for this and that. But the way Iverson stared at her, narrowed eyes tight with suspicion, made her feel jumpy, as if he knew something. Which was ridiculous since, as many little spies he had around the camp, as much as he was on top of things that went on at the camp, there was no way he knew everything.

Somehow, it was like he did. As if he saw through her oversized white t-shirt and easily spotted the faded love-bites plastered onto her skin, from her neck to shoulder blade. As if he read her mind and knew how she spent the weekend with Shiro. Eating so many Oreos, it was amazing neither one of them blew chunks of them out. Watching the first three seasons of Buffy on Shiro’s iPad and laughing at the ridiculous impressions she made of each character, especially Spike, her favorite of the love interests- proving she had good taste since Spike was also Keith’s favorite. Getting 101 crash courses on K-Pop, particularly on Shiro’s top two favorites, BTS and Red Velvet, the girl group who were the five red-dressed girls on her wall. In between vampire-slaying, Oreo-eating, K-Pop binging and bad lip-synching, there was talking.

_“So,” Keith asked. “Why did you lie?”_

_Shiro was on such a high after playing IDOL on YouTube, but her excited grin dropped when she looked over at Keith. “What do you mean?”_

_Keith rose from her stomach where she’d been lying flat besides Shiro on her bed for the better half of a day, sitting on her knees. “Well, you said that you didn’t recognize me at the Welcome bonfire, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Shiro said, although the word sounded more like a question than an answer._

_“But you did at class,” Keith said. “Maybe at the first one, when you said that catchphrase, it was just coincidence. But at the second one, no one knew my old Stage name until you said it. So why did you lie?”_

_Shiro closed her laptop and placed it inside her nightstand drawer, biting down on that lip, brows knitted. “Well, the first time we met at the bonfire, you did seem familiar to me but I couldn’t explain why or how. Far as I knew, you were this insanely hot girl I really wanted to get to know.” She looked over at Keith and gave a smile that was both sheepish and coy at the same time. “Still are, by the way.”_

_“I...you…” Keith’s cheeks aflame, and she smacked a hand against Shiro’s shoulder as she tried and failed to suppress her laughter. “Don’t change the subject.”_

_“Okay, well, like I said, on the first night I felt like I knew you but couldn’t for the life of me explain why. Then the first day at Coran’s class, I watched you fight,” Awe gleamed in those gray eyes from the memory, as if Keith had been a world-class competition instead of going through a practice run. “That speed. Those moves. Not to mention the way you tore into that asshole when he tried you.” She shook her head, incredulous. “I could only think of one former fencer who was equally matched in all three categories.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Which is honestly stupid of me since you honestly haven’t changed that much. You still look the same,” Shiro took a look-over at her and smiled. “Only prettier.”_

_“Okay, now,” Keith frowned-or tried to, but felt her lips twitching upwards instead of down. “I’m sure you’re full of shit.”_

_“Never.” Shiro said, though the gleam in her eyes said otherwise._

_“Sure,” Keith rolled her eyes._

_“Scout’s honor.”_

_“Which means shit to me,” Keith replied, triggering a stream of laughter from her. “Sadly for me, that wasn’t the case. Other than the catchphrase, I never would have thought you were the same girl. You definitely don’t look the same.”_

_Shiro’s brows lifted slightly and tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah. I figured.”_

_Before insecurity or doubt made their way through and ruined the moment, Keith scooted over to Shiro, practically sitting in her lap. She looked her straight in the eye as she grabbed her prosthetic hand, the titanium warm in Keith’s hand. “In a good way, Champ.” She kissed the center of her hand. “A very good way.” She leaned over, kissing the scar resting above her nose._

_“A good, good, incredibly good way.” She released her hand, cupped her face, and kissed Shiro on the hairline. “As in,” Keith eased back and looked directly in her eyes. “If not for the fact that fucking Griffin got in the way, I so would have taken you up on your offer at the bonfire.”_

_Shiro’s breathe hitched, scarlet red filling her cheeks while her eyes gleamed._

_“Really?” Keith decided that a kiss would serve as a much better, more through answer._

In between the talking, came kissing. Lots and lots of kissing, of all different kinds. Kisses so light it felt like a butterfly was landing on her lips, her skin. Long, fast-fueled kisses that made her stomach feel like it was spiraling through endless, heated loops. Then her personal favorite: slow, thorough kisses, featuring gentle nibbling on her bottom lip, light sucks to her tongue, hands following the same motion as her mouth, crumbling Keith’s self-resistance.

Just remembering the feel of Shiro’s skin, those lips on her body. The way her eyes were electric as a storm cloud when Shiro slowly peeled her mouth away from Keith’s and moved it to her neck, hands toying with her body and causing a blaze of warmth so intense, shivers broke out across her skin.

Fuck. The way her brain chose to remind her of certain things at such awkward times was like a superpower. Keith resisted the urge to shift in her seat, sure that would be a dead giveaway of her horny brain, and focused on meeting Iverson’s gaze, willing her face not to turn beet red.

“Well,” he said after a minute of silence. “I hope you learned your lesson.” Keith met his words with a frown. _Lesson? What lesson?_

“I know I must have become your least favorite person, if I wasn’t already. And that you may think you should be above punishments since you’re now a counselor.”

Keith deserved an Oscar, Emmy, and Tony for not breaking into an eye-roll.

“And that two-week pay cut may have hurt you badly-” Iverson sighed at the wide-eyed look Keith shot him, her brows nearly up to her hairline. “Rosa and her son may have told me a bit...of your financial situation”

Irritation flared red-hot. The rational side of her reminded Keith that their intentions were good. However a larger, louder side to her savagely whispered the number of ways she was going to kill Lance later when she saw him.

“But,” Iverson’s voice brought her back to the present. “I do have a zero violence policy at this camp that applies to everyone, staff included. Truth be told, I was almost scared that you two would get into another fight.”

Well, considering how the former tension between them definitely was deadly thick, she couldn’t exactly blame Iverson for that assumption.

“I’d like to think that you two managed to come to a peaceful understanding.”

Oh dear God. Keith’s cheeks burnt bright red as a new memory of their recent weekend. Shiro pinned underneath her, body pliant, mewls and moans whispering from her mouth as Keith kissed every inch of skin her mouth could reach.

“Yeah-yeah-” Keith managed to get out. “I did. I mean-” She cleared her throat. “We did.”

“Good to know.” Iverson nodded.

Keith nodded back.

“As of today, you two are officially off prohibition and are free to resume your usual counselor duties.” He thrust a finger at her face, nearly pointing her eye out. “But if there’s anymore shenanigans-”

“There won’t be.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. She mumbled a weak thanks and left his office. She was on her way to the dining hall, but a quick pat to her pockets revealed she forgot her phone.

 _Damn it!_ She figured she’d be better off getting the phone now while her cabin was still at a decent walking distance.

When Keith got back to the cabin, she saw that Shiro wasn’t there but the scent of lavender soap from a recent shower filled the room, indicating it wasn’t too long ago that she left. Her eyes fell to the bed, where she saw her phone propped on her pillow along with a purple post-it and a small bouquet of white daisies.

Pocketing her phone, she picked up the note.

**_‘Round the same time you got the good news was when Pidge texted me that we’re free. Saw these out by my window and thought they’d be nice to celebrate the good news. Have a great day. :D_ **

Such a goddamn dork. For once, Keith didn’t crush the familiar post-it in her fist or tear it into pieces, but instead smiled as she placed the post-it by her window and picked up the flowers, taking in a deep breath of the sweet scent.

Shiro was such a goddamn adorable dork.

**********

“Someone looks happy,” Lance mused, catching up with her as he caught up with her after her morning classes and headed to the dining hall for lunch. He was dripping wet, red swimming trunks soaked, his white towel a heavy mop slung around his shoulder, which probably meant either someone nearly drowned or pretended to be damsel to have the lifeguard save them.

Keith was sad to say she’d witnessed the latter more than once, and judging by the looks both campers and other counselors Lance was getting as they passed by, her theory was sound.

“Next fencing class isn’t till two, which leaves me two hours of free time. Why wouldn’t I be happy?” Keith replied.

“Nah, it’s more than that.”

Keith scoffed. “Yes, I’m jumping for joy in the inside since Iverson decided to at least cut only one week’s pay instead of two since I managed to behave. And for the love of God, Lance, put on a shirt.”

“No need,” he answered with a grin. “The sun and the ladies’ burning stares keep me plenty of warm.”

Seriously, she wondered for the hundredth time why she was friends with him in the first place.

“Besides we both know that a certain camper is the reason for your sudden good mood. About yea tall.” Lance rose a hand above his own head, standing on his tip-toes. “Built like Serena. Has black and silver hair. Who also happens to be your roommate.”

“Please stop talking.” Keith begged.

“Who also happens to be your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend-”

“Heads up!”

That was all Keith heard before she ducked, smacking a hand against Lance’s head down so he’d duck too, a dark blue green Frisbee cutting through the spot where their heads were only a second ago.

“Oh man.”

Keith looked over at the group of campers laid out by the grass. Pidge, who was grumbling as she ran after the fallen Frisbee that landed a good five feet away. Hunk was running after her, mumbling about superhuman strength. And Shiro was standing by the lawn, catching Keith’s eye and waving happily at her.

Her hand was up before she took note of what happened, waving back eagerly. She felt a grin split across her mouth, a wide and loopy one by the way her cheeks ached. Besides her, Lance was humming that accordion song from Lady and the Trump.

“Shiro, catch!” was all Keith heard before she ducked again as the Frisbee zoomed through the air.

Without moving her eyes away from Keith, Shiro caught the disk easily in her prosthetic hand and winked at her when Keith stared back at her in shock. She was clearly determined to make Keith’s heart burst.

“Like I said,” Lance piped in. “Girlfriend.”

“Shut up.” It was a challenge, but Keith managed to pull her gaze away from Shiro and pack enough heat into the withering look she shot Lance that could have melted bones. “And keep your voice _down_. “

Lance must have caught the scathing tone of her voice, his amused smile vanishing from sight. He nodded once, and years of friendship between the two had her easily reading through the various messages that head-nod contained. It meant he was standing down for now with the teasing, which was a relief for her headache. It meant, despite his teasing, he was happy for her. It also meant, notorious as he was with that big mouth of his, he wouldn’t expose their….well, whatever, unofficial, unnamed thing was going on between her and Shiro.

There was still the fact that Keith was a camp counselor, which brought up the issue of power dynamic. Not that she'd ever use that on Shiro. Everything they did, from all the kisses and touches, how far they went was all Shiro’s call. Keith was sitting shot-gun, happily enjoying the ride.

“Keith? Keith? Keke?”

She spared a glare at Lance. “Is your dream to die before the summer ends?”

“No, my dream has already been fulfilled.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Lance beamed, as if that was the question he’d been waiting for her to ask. Keith braced herself for either the stupidly grand prank or massive headache he’d unleash.

“As you know, I’ve suffered some missteps in trying to step up my game with Allura.” “Game? Last I checked you were in a sinkhole by the starting line.”

“Har, har, and har.” Lance drily replied.

Allura, the pretty head counselor, Camp Malden’s own darling, Coran’s god-daughter who was two years their senior. Lance had been crushing on Allura since the second the two met, turning into a slobbering, stuttering mess that could barely get two words before he collapsed from the burning flush of his face. Keith honestly couldn’t blame him. Allura was a knock-out beauty that could easily be a model with her long waves of white hair, smooth brown skin, and bright blue eyes.

Lance made it no secret he was crushing hard on her. The issue was that Allura was, lack for a better word, prickly when it came to dating. Rumor had it she got her heart severely broken by some playboy jerk who had crushed it to bits shortly after he managed to win it. Nevertheless, Lance was determined to be the prince charming in her love story

“How the hell did you manage to do that?” Keith asked.

Lance blew a puff of hot air against his fist and rubbed the knuckles against his chest that he puffed out. “My dazzling wit and charm.”

Keith stared back at him pointedly.

Lance’s chest deflated, a frown crossing his face. “Alright, alright, Ms. Party Pooper. After some groveling and pestering-”

“That definitely sounds a lot like you.”

“I did not ask for commentary, so kindly zip it,” Lance retorted. “Anyway, after that Allura finally agreed on one date. On the grounds that it’s a group date with all our friends. Next Saturday, we’re heading to Wally’s.”

Brows raised, Keith folded her arms against her chest and asked, “Who’s we?”

“Not exactly the way I dreamt our first date to be, but this is Allura we’re talking about. Future wife and goddess, so I’ll just take what I can get.”

“Who’s we?”

“I’m hoping that seeing me in my bright, friendly element will convince her that I’m the one for her, because I definitely know she’s the one for me.”

Which was dandy and sweet and all, but not serving as an answer to her question. Since it was clear he was going to keep skating away from it, Keith clamped a hand around his jaw, silencing his sentence, and brought him close to her. “Lance. Who. Is. We?”

“Promise me you won’t kill me.”

“I’ll promise I won’t kill you slowly.”

Lance managed to break free from her grip and stepped back. “Okay, well, we consist of all of us. Allura’s friends and mine, which would consist of you and Hunk.”

“No.”

“What if I told you that Shiro happens to be one of the friends Allura is bringing along?”

Keith was ready to drop another no bomb on him, but then stopped at the detail Lance quickly slid in.

By the grin on his face, he knew he had her. “It could also work out in your favor. Be a little pre-date for your guys or an actual date if you want.”

“I-”

“You’ll be off duty, so you won’t be doing any counseling. Plus, it’s seven miles away from camp, so you wouldn’t worry about anyone from camp seeing you. You should be safe. At least as long as you two can go two minutes without sticking your tongue down each other’s throats.”

A glare was the only warning Keith offered before she landed a hard punch to his arm, close to the shoulder.

“Ow! Damn it, Keith!” Lance hissed, clutching his arm. “I need that arm.” “You can be such an idiot sometimes.”

“I may be so, but I also happen to come up with good ideas. This, for example, is a good one.”

Instinct urged for her to retort, but common sense really couldn’t find a good rebuttal at the moment.

“Just think about it.”

Which Keith did, all day. During lunch while she stuffed her face with fried chicken and roasted potatoes, feeling several eyes on her (two pairs belonging to both McClains and one to Hunk) when Shiro joined her at their table along with her friends, choosing the empty chair to her left, their legs touching. During her classes of drills and practice runs. Later on at night as she was showering.

Going on a group date with Lance wasn’t her idea of a good time since the last several times she got into a double date were disastrous. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad since whatever she and Shiro were doing weren’t exactly dating or even official, so it lessened the pressure of trying to make things perfect. Or decent. Yet, at the same time, whatever was going on between them, it didn’t feel casual-at least not to her.

Dear god, her brain. Groaning, Keith tilted her head back towards the shower, letting cool water rain down on her face, scrubbing her hands against her skin as if she could silence all thinking for a minute.

“Keith!” Over the roar of the shower, she heard their doors creak open and shut with footsteps coming in.

“In here.” After one last rinse, Keith shut off the shower, stepped out of it, and patted herself dry with the towel. Once she was dry, she slipped on a huge white t-shirt she grabbed on her way to the bathroom.

After drying her hair, slathering her body with Golden Sunflower lotion she had splurged at Bath & Body Works, she left the bathroom and came into the room, dumping her damp towel in the laundry basket already overflowing with dirty clothes. Shiro was slipping off her shoes, placing them by the feet of her bed.

“Hey.” Keith greeted.

Shiro looked over her shoulder with a smile, but she froze the second she saw her. Shiro’s entire face stayed fixed in shock as she turned her body over to Keith, eyes wide, jaw slack.

Keith fought down the urge to fidget, although her hands did play with the shirt’s hem that came just above her knee, the neck slipping off her left shoulder, exposing her collar bone. The way Shiro looked at her, it was like she was naked. “Um, Shiro? You okay?”

Shiro blinked her eyes. Multiple times, the shock growing bigger with each blink. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh.” Keith looked down at the shirt, studying the Star Wars logo that was stamped across her chest as if it could offer answers. “Yeah, sorry. I thought I had clean clothes, but it turns out I wore my last clean ones today. And it was already too late to go to the laundry room. To be fair-” Keith wagged a finger. “I did find this by my bed, so I can’t be blamed for assuming you left it on purpose.”

Shiro just stared at her with those bugged-out wide eyes. Keith’s finger dropped limply, along with her hand that fell to her side as Shiro took a step closer. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

This time the words sounded more like a statement than a question.

She wasn’t mad, was she? When Shiro had noticed how big her laundry basket waste was growing and noticed Keith’s reluctance to go to the laundry room, she said Keith was free to borrow anything from her if she ran out of clothes. When she saw the Star Wars t-shirt by her bed, she assumed Shiro left it there on purpose. Maybe she should have waited.

“Sorry,” Keith said. “It’s only for tonight. I’ll wash it during my free period. I’ll just-”

Keith didn’t get to finish her promise of making time before her afternoon classes to get the shirt clean, along with the rest of her laundry, because just then Shiro charged towards her. So quick, it was like a flash broken into two snapshots. The before shot of them standing across each other, Keith stammering, Shiro staring. The after where Keith was hoisted into the air by a pair of strong hands, back slammed against the wall, lips caught by Shiro’s that were devouring her.

By the time her brain fully processed what was happening, her legs were wrapped around Shiro’s torso, Shiro’s teeth were grazing her bottom lip, and that was about her last steady thought before she was swept up in soft lips and firm hands.

Shiro spent a good minute, hour, day, however long kissing the living daylights out of her, making each touch was imprinted into Keith’s mind, seeped into her skin. She was pushing Keith so far into the wall, she was sure a life-size outline of her body was going to be carved into there. Then she moved them over to the bed, not breaking their kiss for a second, not losing her grip on Keith.

Keith’s body hit the mattress with a soft thump, jarring a peal of laughter from the two of them. She used her elbows to prop herself up and looked up at Shiro standing at the foot of her bed. Shiro’s smile was wolfish as those gray eyes raked over Keith’s body. Her swollen lips, mussed hair. That smile grew to a wicked grin that made Keith’s inside blaze as Shiro climbed onto the bed, crawling over to her.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Shiro said again, this time with a pleased, possessive tone that made Keith’s toes and stomach tighten.

“I’m wearing your shirt,” Keith repeated, laying back on the bed and arching her back, grinning at the way Shiro’s eyes darken. “What, oh what, are you going to do about it?”

“Well, for starters this.” Shiro ran a hand over her thigh.

Keith bit her lip and tried to appear unfazed, even as shivers spread all over her skin.

“And maybe this.” Shiro grabbed the hem of Keith’s shirt, her shirt, and pushed above Keith’s waist, close to her chest, exposing her flat stomach and plain black underwear. Although the way Shiro stared at her, they might as well have been a lacy thong.

Keith hummed as she arched into Shiro’s hands, putting at the light touches gliding across her skin.

“And this.” Shiro leaned down and dropped a kiss on her belly button, shocking a giggle out of her.

“S-Shiro, oh my god!” Keith yelped, her giggles nearly drowning out her words. “I’m gonna kill you if you don’t stop!”

Shiro did the exact opposite of stopping. She held onto Keith’s waist and dropped more kisses onto her stomach, making more laughter spill from her. Keith struggled to find her bearings, grasping at Shiro’s hair, tugging hard at the roots. Shiro’s eyes were mischievous when they looked at her, glowing bright as starlight.

Keith smirked, giving another tug at her hair, pleased at the half-moan, half-whined sound hissing from Shiro’s mouth. She released her grip on her hair and brushed a finger along Shiro’s jawline. “If I had known you would be this way after seeing me in your clothes, I would have done this weeks ago.”

“You could have tried,” Shiro playfully bit down on Keith’s finger, teeth grazing her skin, and returned the smirk with one of her own. “But I doubt it.”

Challenge accepted. Keith pounced, slipping through Shiro’s grasp and shooting up from the bed so fast, Shiro had no other choice but to jerk away to avoid their heads bashing together. Before she fell off the bed, Keith grabbed hold of her shoulders and laid her flat on the bed, pinning her down with her weight as she straddled Shiro’s waist.

Shiro stared up at her in a daze, jaw slacked. “I-you-”

“You were saying?” Keith teased.

“You’re tiny.”

“And very much mighty.” Keith said with a bright smile.

“You cheated.” Shiro pouted, sticking out that bottom lip Keith was tempted to bite. “Nonsense,” Keith insisted. “You presented me an opportunity and I simply took it.”

Shiro mumbled something under her breath, trying to wiggle her way out. Keith pinned her hands by the girl’s head and held her down, amused by Shiro’s next words, whispered and then gone in a hitched breath.

“I’m sorry,” It was a struggle to keep her smile from turning into a smirk, but Keith did her best. “What was that?”

“You. Cheated.” Shiro repeated.

“How. So?”

“You’re too hot for your damn good.”

Well...well...of all things for her to say, Keith didn’t expect that one. Said so honestly, so unexpected, hotly too as if Keith had committed a grave offense that she couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Shiro cried, though Keith spotted laughter struggling to break through her defiant composure, which only made Keith laugh harder.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m older than you, therefore my word is law.”

Shiro responded to the comment with a stuck-out tongue, ripping a raspberry so obnoxious that Keith fell into laughter again.

“Besides, I’m not that-”

Shiro placed a finger against Keith’s mouth, silencing her words. “We both know that whatever denial bullshit you’re about to say to dismiss your looks isn’t true, so please spare us.”

Keith bit down on her finger, giggling as Shiro quickly withdrew it. “Well, right back at you, brat.”

“Keith, I’m not-”

Now it was her turn to silence Shiro with a firm press of her finger. Leaning in close, she said, “Ever think of attempting to say such bullshit to me and I’ll be forced to punish you.”

“Punish me?” Shiro blinked, her face flushed light red, eyes bright with excitement. “How so?”

“Well, by taking a page out of your book. Starting with this,” Keith scooted away from Shiro, sliding down her lap, to grab hold of her shirt and slip it off her, exposing the black sports bra and toned stomach.

Shiro bit down on her lip, squirming underneath Keith, but voiced no protest to stop.

“And this.” Keith ran her hands alongside her boobs before cupping them. Or at least attempting to. They spilled around her hand, a sight and made that a tantalizing sensation bloom between her legs, exciting her. “Fuck, baby.”

“Keith.” Shiro whimpered, clutching onto the sheets.

“So fucking pretty.” Keith circled a finger around one clothed nipple that was peaking underneath her touch while flicking the other with her tongue.

“Ah...fuck…” Shiro moaned.

“My pretty, pretty baby.” Keith switched over to the other clothed nipple, licking and nipping, while she subjected the other one to slow teases and gentle tugs.

“Oh fuck...Keith.” She jumped as Keith raked a hand down Shiro’s stomach, digging in her nails in just so.

“Just tell me when and how far, sweetheart,” Keith murmured, pulling away from Shiro’s chest to place a slow, soft on her lips that Shiro responded to greedily, making her head spin. “Your call. Your pace.”

Shiro whined underneath, arching her body closer to hers.

“Just tell me,” Keith nipped at that bottom lip, slowly releasing it from her grip. “Tell me, so I know how to take care of you.” Stealing another kiss, she eased away from Shiro. “You want me to, don’t you? Take care of you?”

“Yes, yes I-”

The next few moments were either a cruel joke done by fate who couldn’t let Keith have a moment of peace or she was truly smacked into a corny 90s romcom. Because it was exactly then, a clap of thunder ripped through the air, pounding so loudly the contents on Shiro’s window frame shook. The exact moment it clapped, Shiro jumped, sending both of them to the ground. Keith’s back and ass landed so hard, she yelped.

“Damn it, Shiro-that-” Keith was cut off by a scream. She looked over at Shiro who was trying to make herself as small as possible, curled into a ball with her knees pulled up and arms wrapped, face hidden by her lap, body shaking and jumping at another loud clap of thunder that rattled their windows, their dressers, causing some items to spill onto the floor.

Keith ignored the pain throbbing from her left ass-cheek to her upper thigh as she crawled over to Shiro, kneeled in front of her, and held out her hands.

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice was soft and firm. “If you can hear me, reach out and hold my hands.”

It took awhile for Shiro to respond, but soon her balled hands unclenched and reached out to Keith’s, holding them tight.

“One squeeze for yes,” Keith said. “Two taps for no. Okay?”

Her words were met with a quick squeeze. Although she was still scared, Shiro still managed to respond, which Keith took as a good sign.

“Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

For a second, Shiro’s thumbs were lifted lightly, as if they were about to tap against Keith’s skin, but then in the next response her thumbs laid flat and Keith’s hands were squeezed again.

“Okay, give me a minute,” Keith moved away, but was yanked back by the tight grip of Shiro’s hands on hers. “Shiro-”

“Please…” Her voice was so low, Keith had to lean over to hear her properly. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I’ll just be-” Shiro slammed into her before she could finish, chest pressed to Keith’s back, wrapping her arms around Keith. “Okay, um…” Keith glanced over at the blanket that was shoved off to the wall, far from her reach. Of course. “Just hold onto me, okay.”

With Shiro close to her, Keith waddled over to the bed, grabbing onto the lavender blanket, along with some pillows. She arranged the pillows on the ground, then carefully shifted them over the floor. Shiro loosened her grip to follow Keith’s lead of lying on her side, and happily welcomed Keith’s touch as an arm snaked around her waist, bringing Shiro closer to her. With her other hand, Keith pulled the blanket over their heads, shutting out the storm and the rest of the world out.

“Better?” Keith asked.

“Almost.” Shiro whispered.

“Almost huh,” Keith circled small circles on Shiro’s skin, feeling the tension wound tightly in her body slowly ease. “Well, that won’t do. What can I do to make it better?”

A slight moment of hesitation, but Shiro closed the distance between them, pressing her head against Keith’s chest, wounding an arm around her. Keith slid her left arm underneath Shiro’s head, supporting her like a pillow.

For a few minutes, they held close to each other, waiting out through the storm that raged on, the thunder booming, each clap an earthquake that rocked the cabin and caused Shiro to jump, eyes shut tight. Each lash of lightning loud and vicious, bathing them in silver light, causing Shiro’s grip on her waist to tighten, her lips quivering as she tried to fend off whatever she was seeing or remembering behind her closed eye-lids.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmured.

“It’s alright,” Keith murmured back.

“That night...The night of the accident,” Shiro whispered. “It was the same night a thunderstorm happened. I remember trying to be calm while we heard the thunder. I remember it was pouring so hard, I could barely see outside. Since then,” she swallowed. “I hate storms.”

Keith sighed heavily and nodded in understanding. “To this day, I can’t stand going to hospitals. I can’t stomach the smell of them. Even for annual shots and physicals, I have to force myself to walk into the place instead of the opposite direction. During the last few months of my dad’s life, his hospital room was pretty much our second house. The smell, the machines.” She shook her head, trying her best to ignore the beeping of the monitors that played back in her mind. “It’s been years and I can’t get over it.”

Shiro’s eyes locked on hers, surprise splashing across her gaze, then sympathy as she nodded once. Keith ran her nails across Shiro’s scalp, enjoying the sight of tension and sadness melting away to peace as Shiro rested her head back down and closed her eyes.

“You know,” Keith said, dragging her nails through the thick hair. “My favorite food in the world used to be jajangmyeon. Good, ole black bean noodles.”

Shiro’s eyes may have been closed, but Keith could tell that she was paying attention.

“My dad was many things, but sadly a cook wasn’t one of them. It was a struggle for him to make American food, so Korean food was a disaster. But he made this incredible bowl of jajangmyeon, made with this ‘special sauce-’” Keith pulled her hand away from Shiro’s side to use her two fingers in air quotes, bringing a soft ring of laughter from Shiro. “He swore up and down that it was a world-renewed delicacy, created by my great-grandmother that people all over Daegu came to taste. When really, I’m pretty sure, they were neighbors and friends.”

Shiro giggled.

“Either way, when he made it, it was the best thing ever. Even better than a Happy Meal or birthday cake, although he was pretty good with desserts. And he’d make it on special occasions. Birthdays, holidays, even days when school was rough or a lost a match. I could always expect a huge, steaming pot of black bean noodles to be waiting for me in the kitchen. Sometimes with a present or _Mulan_ or _Treasure Planet_ already set in the DVD player in the living room.” Keith could almost taste that incredible sauce coating her tongue. Smell the grilled onions and pork belly peppering the air. Hear Pop’s warm laughter as she eagerly dove into the bowl he slid across the table to her, right into her awaiting hands, stuffing as many noodles into her mouth as she could. For a second, her chest felt warmed by the memory and then the warmth cooled as the following words came out, the would-be smile falling apart before it could form on her lips. “Then when he died, it wasn’t the same. I tried getting it at other restaurants, shops. I tried making it myself. It was never the same though. Pop may have been joking about it being the noodles being world-famous, but there was something about his own that was unforgettable. Irreplaceable.”

A few minutes of silence stretched out between them, broken by the occasional thrum of thunder that banged like a bass drum, the crack of lightning. Shiro buried her face into Keith’s chest, and Keith’s fingers combed her hair.

“Manjū.”

Keith was so used to the semi-quiet, the motion of her fingers parting through black and silver hair strands, Shiro’s quiet breathing and heartbeat that it took a while for the words to sink in. Even when they did, a frown still crossed her mouth. “What?”

“Manjū,” Shiro repeated, nuzzling against Keith’s chest. “Best translation, a Japanese steamed cake. It’s my favorite thing in the world that I could eat over and over again without getting tired. Usually I like all kinds, but my favorite are the ones my grandfather does for me. He’d pile so much red bean paste inside, that one bite would make ooze out of it. After the accident, even when he was trying to recover from his own wounds, he’d still insist on making me a whole batch because he could tell I had a bad day after therapy and just wanted me to smile.” A peal of laughter slipped from her mouth, but Keith heard the hitch of a dry sob. “I’d eat up crying as I stuffed my face.”

Keith nodded, letting the words flow. “Well, I believe a famous cook once said if good food doesn’t make you cry, then it doesn't deserve to be called good food at all.”

Shiro let out another half-giggle, half-dry sob but Keith heard-or at least would like to imagine-that it was more so a giggle. “And what’s the name of this famous cook?”

The face popped into her mind, but the name was failing to snap in her head. “Blond British dude who can easily make his cooks burst into tears with only a handful of words.”

This time, the giggle was definitely a giggle. “Reminds me of a certain someone.” “Har, har.” Keith poked a finger into her side, gaining a string of soft giggles.

Shiro’s next laugh died down in a sigh, eyes closed once more. She was still for so long that Keith almost thought she was asleep. She nearly fell asleep herself, until the following words, light and soft, nearly drowned by the heavy pour of rain.

“Hey, Red.”

“Yeah, Champ?”

“I really like you.”

Despite the fact it was already clear from their relationship easily shifting from uneasy familiar strangers to fast friends, exchanging sharp barbs and tense silence for kissing, Keith’s heart fluttered like a butterfly and then melted. “I really like you too.”

The thunderstorm continued on throughout the night, all day, then most of the week, rolling into the next week, forcing all camp activities to be restricted to indoors. Often times, they’d be awakened by a deafening clap of thunder, or a bolt of lightning so glaringly bright and fierce that it was like a lightshow was going on outside. Some nights, Keith didn’t bother asking if Shiro wanted company. She’d simply hold up her covers, her open arms catching Shiro as the younger girl slid in.

“Thanks,” Shiro murmured, arms wrapped around her waist, face buried between her neck and the pillow.

Keith brushed a kiss against her temple, and landed another kiss on her cheek. “No problem.”

By Wednesday, lightning faded but thunder and rain remained, pouring so hard endless buckets, battering against the windows like broken glass. The grounds were so slippery-wet, making walking almost impossible without falling or nearly cracking something that Iverson cancelled all camp activities and advised everyone to remain indoors.

By Thursday, the thunderstorm lessened to all-day pour.

By Friday, the rain had vanished all together, setting the day in a glooming gray. 

By Saturday, Keith was in their bathroom, scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror, rethinking every decision she made in the past half hour. She eyed the small makeup pouch sitting idly on the left side of the sink, wondering for the tenth time if she would look like she was trying too hard if she added mascara. Or something other than the red-tinted lip-balm she applied to her lips. After all, it may be a group date but the main couple tonight would be Lance and Allura. On the other hand….

Sucking in a deep breath, Keith stepped back and studied her reflection. She had paired her favorite torn black jeans with a red off-the shoulder top Veronica got her from Forever 21 last Christmas, insisting with a nauseating wink that it was just the top to need for special occasions. Keith wasn’t too sure if a group date with a crowd that included a girl she really liked counted as a special occasion, but she figured why not.

“Keith, you ready?” Shiro’s fist rattled against the door. “Lance texted me to remind you to be on time.”

Keith scowled as she grabbed her comb, running it through her loose hair. “Tell him he can suck a dick.”

Shiro laughed, and the sweet sound changed Keith’s scowl to a smile. “I’ll be sure to include that in the text message.”

“See that you do.”

Shiro laughed again.

Aw, fuck it. She looked cute. She felt cute. She might as well go out there and show Shiro just how cute she was. The giddiness bubbling inside her was daunting. She hadn’t felt this way since her first date ever, even though she kept reminding herself over and over again that it wasn’t an official date between them. Yet Keith couldn’t keep down the grin splitting her mouth as she brushed her loose hair one last time, coated her lips with one more swipe of the shimmering red balm. One last glance, and she nodded to herself, then finally opened the door and stepped out.

Shiro’s stunned expression was all the confirmation she needed that she really did look good. Keith was pretty sure her own face was a mirror of Shiro’s as she looked over at her, feeling her jaw unhinge.

She had gotten so used to seeing Shiro in casual clothes, she almost forgot there was a dressy side to her. Keith was reminded of that side as she took in the black leather vest over a white tank top, several glittering black chains looped around her neck and another pair of tiny jean shorts with black ankle boots that showed off plenty of leg. If that wasn’t enough, Shiro finished off the look with a pair of fingerless black gloves that Keith was torn between borrowing or using her teeth to pull them off.

“W-w-woah.” Shiro breathed in.

That was exactly the word that crossed Keith’s mind as she got another eyeful of her. “Ditto.”

Decent as the day was, the ground was still slick from the heavy downpour. They wrapped their shoes with plastic bags and carefully made their way down from the hill, holding onto each other for support when they stumbled, and to the parking lot, where Lance told them to meet.

Oddly enough, unlike other camps that weren’t too keen on campers and staff leaving besides emergencies, Camp Malden was kind of different. While Iverson didn’t outright encourage people to be off the premises, he didn’t forbid it. Then again, there were plenty of advantages that worked in his favor. Starting with the location of the camp, smack-dab in the middle of a pretty large expanse of remote land that was nothing but trees for miles, where the nearest store was five miles away. Then there was the fact that leaving camp required having the car to leave. Which not too many people did, unless they were Lance and came equipped with his cousin’s old van that ran well enough, even if the paint was peeling off.

“Has a charm of its own.” Lance said, fondly patting the front.

Pidge scowled. “Your definition of charm and the actual definition are two completely different things.”

“Then feel free to walk, cupcake.” Lance smiled and quickly dove into the car, shutting the door just as Pidge lunged forward, and Hunk grabbed onto her forearms, holding her back.

Fuming, she broke free from Hunk’s grasp and turned over to Allura, who was trying to silence her laughter. God bless her soul, because Shiro and Keith were doing the exact opposite, letting it out loud and free, fanning Pidge’s fire, making her anger crack.

“I swear, you!” She pointed an accusing finger at Allura. “And you!” She directed the finger towards Shiro. “Have the weirdest taste in people.”

Allura waved the words away with a dismissive flick of her hand. Shiro, on the other hand, wore a bright grin as she moved behind Keith and entwined her arms around Keith’s waist, making a show of dropping a loud and wet kiss on the crown of her head.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.”

Shiro responded with another wet kiss to Keith’s head. She happily followed Shiro’s lead, arching more into her touch, and stealing a quick kiss to her jaw.

Lance honked the honk. ‘Let’s go, kiddies. The rink awaits.”

Keith shared a look with Shiro before they climbed into the car.

Lance may have been bummed over the fact his dream date now included four other people, but Keith had to hand it to him. Her best friend did pick a good spot to have the date.

Much more original than the average movie-dinner date, Tom’s Carousal was the town’s skating rink that was a huge hit with the locals and tourists alike. Styled like an actual fun house with full-length mirrors stretching from wall to wall, showing back wacky distorted reflections, the interior’s darkness of the place crushed red velvet that smelt like cotton candy. Music blasted from the speakers implanted in the ceiling, pop songs from the early 2000s to today filling the air, adding an extra boost of excitement and energy as skaters of all ages rolled onto the rink.

BTS’ Dynamite was doing wonders to Lance as he structured onto the rink like he was John Travolta from that seventies movie, thrusting his hips and rolling his arms in time to the beat. Once he reached the center, he spun over to Allura. Her body shook with laughter, but she accepted his hand, allowing herself to pull further in.

“So in the interest of me not breaking my neck,” Hunk announced. “I think I’m gonna try my luck at the arcade. Anyone care to join?”

Pidge, who didn’t bother putting on skates, shot up her hand with a grin. “Right behind you.”

Arms linked together, the two sauntered off, leaving just Keith and Shiro behind.

Keith finished tying up her skates and slowly rose up to her feet. It had been a long awhile since she skated, but a few glides of her feet, she managed to find her balance and stay upright. She turned over to Shiro, her smile changing to a confused frown when she noticed Shiro’s skates were sitting beside her feet. “You’re not skating?”

Shiro tried giving her a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I think it’s best if I sit this one out.”

“Best?” Keith parroted, frown deepening. “For who?”

“Well, myself. You. Anyone who has the unfortunate luck to get run down by me.” “Okay, now I know you’re full of shit.”

“It’s true!”

“Right.”

“I’m not the most skilled person when it comes to skating. Trust me, the few times I attempted…” Shiro’s face twisted in a grimace. “Not pretty.”

“Shiro.”

“I swear, it’s not pretty.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that Shiro was one to brush aside her own talents, Keith probably would have believed her. “How bad could you be?”

As it turned out, bad. Very, very bad. Bad, as in watching a baby Bambi trying and failing to keep their balance as they waddled through the ice. As in needing to swoop in countless times to save Shiro from falling face-first onto the ground, Shiro nearly falling the second Keith released her grip. As in nearly crashing onto the wall the second she managed to glide straight for two seconds.

“Wow,” Keith said, quickly rolling in and saving her before her ass took another hard fall to the ground. “You’re weren’t kidding?”

Shiro shot her a glare that could be summed in two words: _Told ya_.

“I mean,” Keith tried to find some form of a silver lining. “It wasn’t that bad?”

“Wasn’t that bad?” Shiro repeated, words flat. “Keith, I think my face and my butt kissed the ground a good fifty times in a row.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that many.” Close to, possibly, but it couldn’t have been that many.

Shiro shot her another glare. “Keith, it was many times enough that an employee asked me if I’d need the walker.”

“Well-”

“Twice.”

Unfortunately Keith couldn’t argue with that.

“And the looks the other people gave me while I was struggling and tripping were enough to scar me for two whole lifetimes.”

“Think of it as encouragement.”

“Keith,” Shiro leveled her with a look. “A six year old asked me if I needed a Frozen Band-Aid for my boo-boo.”

“Well, Elsa said the cold didn’t bother her anyway, so safe to assume that the same goes for boo-boos.”

A laugh burst out of Shiro, shaking her body as she leaned closer to Keith, burying her face against Keith’s chest. “You’re horrible.”

Taking a page from Alex in the Disney Channel’s Twitches movie, Keith grinned down at her, reciting, “Being horrible is one of my best qualities.”

Shiro laughed harder, coming close to tears. Keith laughed along with her. Slipping her hand through Shiro’s, Keith led them off the rink and back to solid group, plopping down on a bench. Shiro nudged Keith in the shoulder, and at the silent instruction of her pointed finger, Keith turned her head back at the rink, watching Lance and Allura locked hand in hand as they spun around.

“Sucks we can’t be like that.” Shiro sighed.

“Maybe not,” Keith commented, eyes wandering around. “But we could do that.”

Shiro’s eyes followed the direction where her finger was pointing at, brightening at the sight of the photobooth that was tucked into the corner by the arcade.

“Shall we?”

Shiro didn’t need to be told twice. She tugged off her skates, pushed them to the side, and grabbed hold of Keith’s arm, racing over to the booth.

“What about your skates?” Keith half-cried, half-laughed.

“I’ll make sure they’re safely returned later.”

Keith laughed harder.

The inside of the photobooth was decked out in white and teal blue, featuring blue curtains and floors and a rounded seat, with enough room to fit only one person. They managed to make it work though with Shiro taking the seat, Keith on Shiro’s lap.

“Alright,” Shro slipped a few quarters into the slot and leaned back, fluffing up her hair.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” Keith said just as the flash went off.

In the end, they managed to get three rolls of pictures. The first roll looked more like outtakes, blurs of fatal turns and ducks, awkward angles and half-smiles. Next roll was a bit better, featuring more smiles and silly faces. Third one was all kisses-kisses to cheeks that made pink color their pale skin, kisses to noses that made grins broaden, kisses to lips that shifted the attention from posing to feeling and responding.

Keith made sure to get an extra copy of the last two.

The gang regrouped and had a feast over at the diner next door of double-stacked bacon cheeseburgers, baskets of spicy nuggets with dozens of dipping sauces that Hunk insisted on trying and comparing, chili cheese-fries and hotdogs piled with so many toppings that they were toppling over. Then they tried their luck on the rink again, with Lance and Allura pulling Hunk and Pidge onto the floor, smiling at their protests, while Keith kept a firm grip on Shiro as they followed the crowd for a go around.

Overall, it was a fun night filled with laughter, good food, and even better company. It would have been totally perfect if not for the fact that halfway through the car ride back, it started to rain. First, it was just a light drizzle, but by the time Lance pulled into camp, it was a full-on heavy downpour.

“Run for it!” Hunk yelled, pulling his vest over his head and immediately booking it.

Pidge screamed as she dived out into the rain, using the big stuffed bear she won at the arcade for cover.

“Ready?” Keith asked, sticking out her hand.

Shiro nodded. “Ready.”

She gripped Keith’s hand, and Keith gave it a quick squeeze. Then the two were running, shrieking and laughing as they raced up the steep hill, battling the heavy rain and the muddy trail that was doing it's’ hardest to suck them in. Their clothes were spared the worst of it, but their shoes were goners, caked with mud.

Keith took the first shower at Shiro’s insistence, washing away the grim and mud, watching them go down the drain. The second she was out, freshly showered and clad in a towel, Shiro slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. After she dried off and changed into her nightshirt and shorts, Keith lounged on her bed, scrolling through her phone to pass the time, liking and saving whatever posts were good on Twitter. When she was done with her phone, she turned over at the pictures, smiling at the images.

She had two favorites. One was from the silly roll where Keith looked back at the camera, cross-eyed and cheeks puffed out, Shiro’s head thrown back, mouth agape in laughter that Keith could still hear.

“And here I thought you didn’t like pictures.”

Keith looked up at Shiro, who was standing in front of her, dressed in a Star Wars nightshirt that was big enough to pass for a short dress, the hem coming above her thigh. A purple towel was draped across her shoulders, and she used one end to dry her hair.

“I don’t like selfies or pictures I’m forced into me that end up being posted on social media.” Keith corrected.

Shiro laughed, fluffing her hair dry until it was a black and silver poof. Dumping the damp towel into her laundry basket, she joined Keith onto her bed. “I don’t see why.”

Keith gave her a look. “Then you clearly have been spared from seeing me in the morning.” She shuddered. “Not a pretty sight.”

“Now, who’s bullshitting?” Shiro teased. “Besides, I have seen you in the morning. You happen to look very cute. Drool and all.”

“Har, har,” Keith knocked her shoulder against Shiro’s. “And I’m not cute.”

Shiro leaned in and laid three kisses, each one broken apart by her soft words. “You’re right. You’re not cute. You’re pretty.” A kiss to her temple. “Insanely gorgeous.” A kiss to her nose, causing a grin to break through. “Crazy beautiful.”

“Right back at you, gorgeous.” She reeled Shiro in by the collar of her nightshirt and pressed a proper kiss against her mouth.

A quiet intensity slipped into the atmosphere, like a snake winding through grass. Keith felt it with every slow, thorough kiss, with every slow and exploratory touch. It wasn’t long before Shiro was laid out across the bed, Keith above her, their hands and lips locked in a slow, sensual dance.

“Keith,” Shiro murmured.

Keith pulled away from her collarbone that she was busy decorating with kisses and hickies and looked down at her.

“Remember how you said-you said-” Shiro swallowed nervously. “That it was my call. On how far we can go.”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded.

Shiro licked her lip before she bit down on it as she thought over her next set of words, as if she was gathering the right ones and her courage. “What if I wanted us to go all the way?”

Keith’s heart pounded so hard, she was sure that it would burst. “Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you done this before?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a nod. “You?”

“I have,” Keith nodded. Well, that main thing was out of the way, but there was still something else they needed to go over. “Are you sure though?”

Despite the nerves she saw flickering across Shiro’s face, glinting in her eyes, she managed to muster enough energy to pull off a smile that looked pretty cheeky on Keith’s end. “Am I sure that I want the girl I’ve been crushing on since forever to have me in the worst and best of ways? Let me think.” Shiro hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “That would be a yes.”

Keith laughed, leaning down to nip at Shiro’s nose, then her bottom lip. “Listen, no one likes a smartass.”

“That so?” Shiro challenged. “Because I like you.” Her teasing expression gave away to something softer, more tender, that made Keith’s stomach feel like it was slowly dropping. “A whole lot.”

Oh dear god, the things this girl did to her. Swallowing, Keith asked, “Well, sweetheart, how do you want me?”

Instead of replying, Shiro simply guided Keith until she was the one laying down and Shiro was the one straddling her. At Shiro’s gentle nudging, Keith helped her rid herself of her nightshirt, watching it be tossed aside to the ground, leaving her in just her panties.

This wasn’t the first time Shiro had seen her topless yet the way her eyes darkened, gleaming brightly like stars, it might as well have been. Her gaze didn’t miss a thing. Not the valleys of pale skin. Not the splash of freckles. Not the dark red wolf paw tattoo marked just above her left boob. Not the way Keith’s nipples were peaking underneath that hotly stare, hardening right before their eyes.

“Jesus, Keith.” Shiro breathed, shaking her eyes.

Shiro’s intense gaze felt like a set of hands running all over her body, not missing a single space of skin. Keith was already abuzz with it that when Shiro finally touched her, she tried her hardest not to cry out as goosebumps rose on her skin, Shiro’s blunt nails gliding across them like a skilled ice-skater.

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro whispered. Her fingers played with Keith’s nipples, the motion maddeningly slow, before they tugged, causing a bolt of heat to run through her body.

“Fuck.” Keith murmured, rocking her hips, warmth blooming inside her, stirring between her legs.

“So fucking pretty.” Shiro dove in. If she was a tease with just her fingers, she was downright sadistic with that tongue of hers, flicking it around Keith’s nipples over again as they grew even more sensitive.

“Fuck.”

Shiro rose from the bed and Keith helped her pull off her damp underwear, joining her shirt on the floor. Once she was fully bare, Shiro spread her legs apart and smiled as she touched Keith’s thighs, practically laying worship with her touches and kisses. Raking her nails over the sensitive skin again and again until red bloomed, until Keith’s thighs were quivering, until Keith couldn’t tell what was causing her to go mad. The light-headedness, Shiro’s hands and lips, or the anticipation that made her stomach tighten each passing second.

“Fuck,” Keith muttered as Shiro’s next caress and kiss landed high above her inner thigh, dangerously close to her clit that was soaking wet and throbbing. “Fuck, Shiro.”

“If only you knew, baby.” Shiro muttered. Keith lifted her head up and nearly came at the sight of Shiro kneeling in between her legs, lips reaching closer and closer to her clit. Shiro’s eyes locked on hers, dark and heavy with want. “If only you knew how fucking pretty you look right now.”

Keith moaned, arching her body closer to Shiro.

Finaly- _fucking finally_ -Shiro touched her where she needed to be touched, running a finger across Keith’s clit.

Much as she tried, Keith easily lost the battle with her body, arching up into Shiro’s touch with a moan.

“You’re getting wet, sweetheart,” Approval and desire tinged Shiro’s voice, making Keith’s head swim. She looked up at Shiro, catching the wicked smirk that curled the girl’s mouth. “Let’s see if we can get you more wet.”

“Fuck.” Keith murmured at the second touch, Shiro’s thumb brushing across her clit in a slow motion.

“Fuck!” she said again as a finger slipped inside her with ease, then joining another, then another.

“ _Fuck!_ ” she yelped as Shiro’s quickly found a rhythm, palm playing against her and fingers pressing in just deep and firm enough to send tingles down her spine.

Pleasure coiled inside her like a spring, curling tighter, burning hotter with each touch, each stroke. Soon, all too soon, it became too much for Keith. Shiro’s lips were on her chest, sucking hard on her nipples and rolling them in between her teeth, creating a delicious ache that matched the throbbing ache between her legs.

“Fu...fuck... _Oh fuck!_ ” Keith tried to chase the pleasure, frantically rolling her hips into Shiro’s touch. “I’m gonna-I’m gonna-”

“Come on, Red,” Shiro thrust her fingers in and curled them.

The coil snapped inside Keith and all she could was hold onto the sheets with one hand, onto Shiro’s shoulders with her other as pleasure thrummed along her spine, spiraled through her body in electric waves that sparked again to life as soon as they ended, going on and on until she was boneless and shaking. She whimpered softly, arm thrown across her face, feeling the aftershocks roll through her body. It was like her body was down below while her mind floated above like a leaf caught in a draft.

“That had to be the hottest thing I ever saw.” The way Shiro sounded, breathless and dazed, as if she were the one who had just been fingered within an inch of her life, made warmth pool in Keith’s belly.

She moaned weakly in response, limbs tingling from the aftermath. The gentle touch of Shiro’s fingers tracing her mouth brought her back to reality. She used whatever strength she could muster to shoot Shiro a soft smile and took those fingers into her mouth, sucking on them lightly, moaning from the taste of herself.

“Such a good girl,” Shiro cooed.

Keith moaned, sucking harder. She whined when Shiro withdrew her fingers, but moaned happily as they were replaced by her mouth, Shiro’s tongue licking inside as if she was determined to catch every taste of Keith that remained inside. As they kissed, Keith used the few brain cells she had left to lift up the hem of Shiro’s nightshirt, needing to feel bare skin, needing to make Shiro feel just as good as she did.

It took some time, with Shiro reluctant to let go of Keith’s mouth, with Keith torn between spending the rest of the night kissing her mouth and wanting to kiss her elsewhere. Finally, the shirt was off and bare skin was all Keith’s for the taking.

“God, sweetheart,” Keith cupped Shiro’s breasts and gave a light squeeze, pleased by the way Shiro jumped underneath her. “I love your boobs.”

This time, it was Shiro’s turn to lay back as Keith laid worship to that gorgeous body. Keith wasted no time exploring her chest with her hands, then her mouth, her teeth, moaning at the taste of soft skin, moaning at the scent of vanilla and cinnamon and a smell that was entirely Shiro. Her touch strung out a beautiful chorus of moans, whimpers, and mewls from Shiro’s mouth, growing louder the more Keith touched, the more she kissed, the more she marked with her teeth.

“K-Keith...Oh god…” Shiro was trembling, one hand fisting her pillow, the one at Keith’s back, bringing her closer. “Don’t stop.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Keith smacked a quick lip onto her lips. “I don’t plan to.”

“Fuck.” Shiro moaned, head thrown back, eyes clenched shut.

Keith eased away from the nipple she was nibbling at and sat up on her knees, admiring her handiwork. Shiro’s hair was sticking out in every direction as if she had been caught in a wild wind. A warm, pink flush colored her face, her neck, her heaving chest that was adorned with various hickies. Judging by the way Shiro looked up at her, desire flaring in those eyes, body trembling, Keith would say she did a fine job. She moved closer and glanced down at Shiro’s thighs, thick and muscular and tightly pressed against each other.

“Now, what on earth could you be hiding down there?” Keith wondered, slipping two fingers between those sealed thighs, prying them open with ease despite their obvious strength.

Soft cries filled Keith’s ears as she circled her thumb over Shiro’s clit that was growing wetter by the second.

“Your turn,” Keith announced.

Right as Keith was about to go under for a taste, Shiro sat up and grabbed her arm. “Keith, wait.”

Keith paused. “You okay?”

“Well...um…”

Keith drew back a little, moving her hand up to Shiro’s hip. “What’s wrong? Am I going too fast?”

“No, it’s not that.” Shiro said, and yet she wasn’t looking at Keith. Her gaze was focused on her lap.

“Shiro, we don’t have to do this.”

“No!” Shiro cried, looking up. “I want to. I really do. It’s just…”She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “Oh god, this is embarrassing.”

“What is it?”

“Um, so, well...I’ve been told that when I get to,” The pink flush of her face darkened to a bright red shade. Shiro bit on her lip. “When I get too deep into that headspace, I can have a very...um…”

Keith inclined her head in a go-on motion.

“….gripping hold.”

It took a full ten seconds for the words to click in Keith’s brain. Once they did, her breath caught, then turned heavy as she looked down at Shiro’s thighs. “Oh my god.”

“I want to die.”

“Hey, hey, Shiro.” Keith tapped her on the knee. “Look at me.”

Keith waited until Shiro followed through with the request, slowly lowering her hands. Once Keith was gifted a full view of her face, she smiled and kissed her. Soft enough to ease the tension winding up in her body, deep enough to direct her attention away from embarrassment and to somewhere else more pleasant, feeling Shiro turn to putty.

When Keith pulled away, Shiro whined against her mouth, grabbed the back of her head, and reeled her back in. Keith allowed herself a few seconds, minutes of tasting before she finally pulled back, guiding Shiro back onto the bed.

“Trust me, Champ.” She lifted one leg up, resting it by her shoulder and nuzzled against Shiro’s thigh. “Death by these babies?” She kissed the one close to her face while she raked her fingers against the one lying next to her. “I can’t think of a better way to go.”

A round of laughter burst from Shiro that she tried to cover up, which only made her laugh harder.

“May I?”

Shiro nodded, eyes glinting.

“Words, sweetheart,” Keith gently reminded. “I need your words.”

“Yes.”

Keith squeezed Shiro’s thigh and laid an open-mouthed kiss where her fingers just pressed, dragging her lips up and in as Shiro’s legs closed around her shoulders.

At the first brush of her fingers against Shiro’s clit, Shiro whined and Keith was nearly lost in the sound. At the first taste, she was completely lost in the taste and scent that surrounded her, honing all thoughts and sense to a single command: to please.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned, one hand fisted against Keith’s hair, urging her closer. “Please. I want it. Please.”

How on earth could she refuse her? Keith spread Shiro wide and licked.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Shiro shrieked, wildly bucking her hips.

More, she demanded as Keith sucked and licked. More, she demanded, as Keith added fingers and moved her tongue to Shiro’s clit. More, she demanded. Harder, faster. Just more, more, more.

It wasn’t long before Shiro’s thighs were clamped around her, squeezing her tightly. Not that she minded. Keith happily welcomed the hold, the closeness, spreading Shiro wide, her tongue eagerly lapping and sucking. Increasing the pitch and tempo of Shiro’s pleased cries, increasing the strength of her trembling.

“K-ke-Keith. Please. I’m gonna...I’m gonna co-I’m gonna-” That was pretty much all Shiro could manage before she dissolved into shudders, grasping onto the sheets, onto Keith as she rode out her orgasm.

Weakly, Shiro tugged at her. Keith easily allowed herself to be pulled into Shiro’s arms, into her kiss, both of them moaning from the taste of each other coating their tongues. As they kissed, Keith shifted her hips, sliding over Shiro’s thigh, grinding herself against it. In turn, Shiro moaned as she held Keith tight, accepting the frantic kisses Keith laid on her mouth as her grinding grew more frantic. They entwined their legs, their limbs together, rocking against each other, exchanging grind for grind, until their bodies were stiff with pleasure that easily broke apart, coming only seconds apart, melting into shudders and breathless kisses until they were spent and sated.

Shiro recovered first. It took longer for Keith to get herself together. For mind and spirit to sink back into her body. By the time her heart was beating a normal pace, gaining some feeling back into her limbs, she slowly opened her eyes and was greeted by Shiro’s warm gaze. Smiling, Keith grabbed her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Shiro, in return, brushed her kissed knuckles against Keith’s cheek.

“Hi.” she murmured.

“Hi.” Keith murmured and turned over to her side, shuffling closer to her. “Wanna know a secret?”

Shiro copied her position, pillowing her head with her hands tucked underneath. “What?”

“I really like you.” Keith whispered.

Shiro smiled back at her. “I really like you, too.”

**~.....~**

The last day of camp proved to be just as chaotic as the first day. Staffers and campers bursting around, arms cradling packs, bags, art projects. Friends and roommates pulling each other into one-armed or full-on hugs, smiling or laughing, swapping numbers, social media accounts, and last-minutes selfies that were posted seconds after they were taken.

Had it been Keith's way, she would have spent the day sleeping off the hangover and exhaustion last night's bonfire brought on. A very fun, wild night filled with too much food, dancing until their clothes were damp from sweat and their feet ached, a few (hundred) kisses stolen underneath the moonlight and behind the trees, and the night ending with Lance being pulled into a group hug by first-time campers before they tossed him into the lake. The video was recorded from a dozen different angles and shared on Twitter and Instagram that Keith made sure to like, save, and pass it along.

Humming, she rolled onto her side, the cool sheets brushing against her bare skin, body tingling from the love bites and marks Shiro spent most of the night printing onto her skin. She stretched out to reach for her new favorite pillow that had been keeping her warm during the last few days, and was surprised to feel nothing but cool sheets.

Puzzled, she sat up in her bed and looked around the room, finding nothing. Then she became aware of the tickle on her forehead. She peeled it off, wincing at the sticky residue. A post-it, a purple post-it.

Keith did her best to blink away sleep and read.

**_Come to the gym._ **

After a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and a few bites of the dark chocolate Oreos she swiped from underneath Shiro’s bed that hadn’t been packed away yet later, Keith waltzed into the gym. Shiro waited for her in the center of the mat with a smile as bright as the two silver fencing swords propped against her shoulder, glinting underneath the sun.

“Seriously?” Keith laughed, but honestly, could she expect anything less?

“Why not?” Shiro grinned. “For old time’s sake?”

She tossed one sword over to Keith, who was caught with ease. She tapped the end of the sword against her shoulder as she entered the mat.

“Is there a prize we’re fighting for?” Keith asked. “Other than the usual bragging rights?”

“I think we both earned those rights after last night’s performance.” The little temptress wore a shameless smile, sending a wink. “Don’t you think?”

Keith pressed her tongue against the back of her front teeth, feeling a hot flush start at the soles of her feet, quickly surging up the rest of her body, up to her head like she was thrown into a hot bath. Finally, she answered back with a nod. “I agree.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Though judging by your screaming and my speculator ending, I think I earned a bigger percentage of those rights.”

Bright red spread across Shiro’s face, turning that shameless smirk into a sheepish smile she was failing to bite down.

“So what’s the prize, Champ?” Keith asked once she got her fill of that beautiful, blushing face.

She was going to miss that face. And that smile, that laugh, everything about Shiro. Thankfully they had already exchanged numbers and social media accounts. Shiro even convinced her to sign up for TikTok, insisting it would change her life.

Shiro bit down on that full bottom lip. “For this thing,” She waved her metal fingers between her and Keith. “Us. To possibly continue on. Even after, well,” She let her hand drop limply by her side, apple red coloring her cheeks once more. “We say goodbye today.”

Keith’s surprise lasted for only a second before it bloomed into a smile. “Really?”

“Really.” Shiro smiled back. “Only if you want to, that is.”

“It’s actually funny you say that,” Keith said. “I was considering making the same wager.”

Surprise and hope danced across Shiro’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” Keith nodded and took a step forward. “With the condition of this new thing being solely exclusive.”

Hope bloomed a bright, wide smile that Keith easily returned with one of her own. “Well, then I suppose there’s only one thing to say.”

“I believe so, “Keith said, sliding into position, her smile growing as she watched Shiro mirror her movements. “You ready, Champ?”

“Always, Red.”

“ _En Garde!_ ” Keith announced and lunged.


End file.
